


Oceans Of Time

by badskippy



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Think of Erebor as Iceland
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:12:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 30,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The island nation of Erebor is a warm spot amid the ice and snow above the Arctic Circle.   In fact, it draws tourists like a flame does moths.  Yet it is not the natural hot springs and mythical healing waters that are the most coveted locations to see, but Castle Durin - said to house a legendary horde of gold and riches.  </p><p>But the only way to see the Castle is to receive a personal invitation from The Lord of Erebor or his family.  </p><p>Many would die to get such an invitation.  Only a few know, that many do ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Running Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/gifts).



> THE PICTURE BELOW IS THE INSPIRATION FOR THIS PIECE.

* * *

 

* * *

 

           

            He felt like he had been running his whole life.

            He tried to draw in more breath, for more speed, for a greater chance of escape. His legs pumped like pistons in his attempt to make it back to the town but the odds were not in his favor. He pushed at barely seen branches in the dark, barely feeling the smaller ones that he missed whip him in the face, scratching his skin, cutting him slightly, causing him to bleed.

            Not good that.

            He wondered, vaguely, if he could find a hiding place somewhere in the woods. Perhaps a tight hedge of undergrowth he could lay under. Maybe a large tree that was hollow enough for him to climb in and be secluded. Even a tight weave of roots, filled with rotting leaves, that he could scramble down into and let the smell of decay cover his scent.

            The voice inside his head almost laughed at him for such thoughts; ridiculous to think prey could hide from the predator.

            A wolf-like howl pierced the night, bringing both his breathing and his body to a dead stop; his blood ran cold in his veins. He couldn’t guess how close that was to his position, but it wasn’t far; he could at least tell that.

            Fright took him and he started running again; flight his only true option.

            But as his hope faded, something else settled over him—an overwhelming feeling of acceptance. It wrapped around him like a chilled, heavy blanket. He was barely aware of his reduced pace, his mind shutting down as the inevitable became reality.

            Finally, he could go no further. He stopped. Fatigue turned his legs to lead and he could only draw ragged breaths as he stood there, hunched over, hands on knees.  His very soul screamed at him to keep going, keep moving, keep running, but it was no use. He was defeated. And the worst thing was, part of him had known it before he ever fled the castle and ran off into the night in a fool’s attempt to keep his life.

           “I must say,” said the soft, deep voice of his doom, “you gave a better chase than most.”

           He had no response to that; he wasn’t sure it was a compliment.

           “But in the end,” the voice said, “your flight was futile.”

           Now, that he was sure of.

           Before he knew it, he was seized, caught, trapped in an iron-like grip, his head tilted to one side and his neck bared to the night.

           Was this what the hare felt in the jaws of the wolf, he wondered; one infinitesimal moment of fear, followed by a quick, sharp, piercing pain and then—euphoria. His life passed before his mind’s eye—every beautiful memory, every poor decision, every evil deed—the images quickly flickering by. His true eyesight faded and his limbs numbed, until the only thing he was left with was the sound of his own heart sputtering out its last few, frantic beats.

           Darkness rose and there was nothing more.

           Nothing.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            Dwalin ran into the small clearing and came upon exactly what he expected; the cold, pale body of the thief and his lord and master standing over it.

            “A bit impressive, that,” Dwalin said with admiration. “Few make it this far.”

            “Indeed,” his Lord said.

            “Should I bury it here,” Dwalin asked, “Or take it back.”

            His Lord was quiet in his contemplation before finally stating, “Burn it with the rest. We don’t want anything left for someone to find.”

            “Yes, sire,” Dwalin said, already moving forward to pick up the corpse. He heaved the limp body onto his shoulders, and while it was much lighter now in death, it would still be a burden to carry it back to the castle. But carry it, he would. As he started off, his master’s voice stopped him.

            “Dwalin,” the Lord said softly, “when you are done, met me in my study.”

            “Aye, milord.”

            “We have,” the Lord said with a small, huffed out, hollow laugh, “invitations to dinner to send out.” Dwalin’s dark green eyes met his Lord’s cold, ice blue ones in the dark and the manservant nodded in grim understanding.

 

 

 


	2. Ill-Fated Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wants to visit Erebor for their annual holiday get-away, but Ori isn't so sure about it all. Nori wants to go, but it's not the hot springs that draw his interest ...

* * *

 

 

            “Really?” Ori was confused. “You want to go _there_?”

            “Of course!” Bilbo was just as confused at Ori’s confusion, as Ori was at Bilbo’s idea; it wasn’t like Bilbo had suggested going to a Russian Gulag for holiday. “Haven’t you ever been curious about the place?”

            “To be honest,” Ori replied. “No.”

            Bilbo sighed. “How can you call yourself a historian, but clearly not like history.”

            “I'd like to point out that history is my profession, so I don't necessarily want to pursue it on my vacation; I just have no interest in _Ereborean_ history.”

            “An island, smack in the middle of the Barents Sea—”

            “It’s in the Norwegian Sea, actually.”

            “—almost half-way between the Arctic Circle and the North Pole—”

            “It's barely ten degrees north of Iceland.”

            “—filled with mythical, healing hot springs—”

            “It sits over a hot spot in the Earth’s crust; not exactly magic.”

            “You know, for all your insistence, you know a hell of a lot about a place you have no interest in.”

            Okay, Bilbo had him there.

            “Fine,” Ori sighed out. “I’ll admit that I am … interested.”

            “All that knowledge of the place and _‘interested’_ is all I get from you?”

            Ori gave up. “Maybe I am a tad more than interested. But, Bilbo … Erebor?! It’ll be the beginning of November, for Christ’s sake; land of eternal night and all that.”

            “Hardly,” Bilbo pointed out. “It has six months of day and six months of night; totally normal. Besides, at that time of year, there will be … what? About six hours of daylight.”

            Ori let loose a fake laugh. “Six hours? Oh, well, I better bring sun block so I don’t get burned.”

            Bilbo just shot Ori a cocked eyebrow. “You know, bitter isn’t a very flattering color on you.”

            “I’m not being bitter ... I’m being sarcastic.”

            Bilbo wasn’t impressed with Ori’s snark. “Well, whatever you are, it’s getting tiresome.”

            “You always say that, even after you’ve worn me down.” It was embarrassing to admit, but Bilbo did usually get him agree more than Ori should. Of course, Ori would also have to admit that he ended up having a really, _really_ , great time. Crap.

            Bilbo’s eyes lit up but there was smugness about them. “So, you’re going to go then?”

            “Yes, yes,” Ori stated, defeated. “I’m going.”

            Bilbo squealed, surged forward and wrapped his arms around his best friend, who returned the hug with a laugh. They were really going to Erebor, _together_ , and they would have a great time, or die trying, in Bilbo’s opinion. But that was not a sentiment he felt he should share with Ori at the moment.

            “Don’t worry about a thing,” Bilbo said once they pulled apart. “I will arrange and take care of everything! You only have to come and enjoy yourself!”

            “That doesn’t seem very fair,” Ori replied. “Why not let me at least pay for our transportation to and from the island?”

            Bilbo thought about it. Ori was always uncomfortable with Bilbo spending any of his inheritance money on him, despite Bilbo insisting that he had more money than one person should legally have. Yet, as true as that statement was, it still never sat right with Ori; Bilbo didn’t want to break Ori’s bank but he also didn’t want to make Ori feel like he was mooching—Ori’s phrase, not Bilbo’s—from his best friend.

            “Okay,” Bilbo gave in; with the idea that he would slip Ori money secretly like he always did. Bilbo found that by leaving twenty and ten pound notes here and there, Ori would think that he forgot about the money in his jacket or pockets or dropped the notes on the floor. “I can live with that.”

            At that moment, the front door to Ori’s flat opened and a familiar voice called out.

            “Sweetness and light,” Nori called in a sing-song voice. “I’m home!”

            “We’re in the kitchen!” Ori called back.

            Nori, Ori’s second older brother, walked in looking dashing as ever; street-chic as Bilbo would say. Nori was able to dress to impress, even in just jeans and a tee, but somehow, he could totally go unnoticed, when dressed in a suit and tie—if he wanted to. Ori and Bilbo had watched him basically disappear into a crowd like smoke. It was as amazing as it was creepy.

            “What are you two up to?” Nori asked as he came in and grabbed one of the muffins Bilbo had made and brought with him.

            “Planning out our holiday next month,” Bilbo answered.

            “To Erebor,” Ori added flatly. He was going, but he was still allowed to be disgruntled.

            “Erebor?!” Nori almost choked on the muffin he was eating. “Are you two mental? It’s fucking cold there?!”

            Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Honestly, the two of you.” Bilbo was started to get annoyed. For real. “It is filled with history, art and culture; not to mention natural wonders, great food, world renowned spas and … from all accounts, riches beyond the dreams of avarice. And all you two can think about is the temperature.”

            Both Ori and Nori contemplated that.

            “I wouldn’t mind spending some time at one of the spas,” Ori confessed with a small, dreamy smile.

            “Riches you say,” Nori had that glint in his eye that only made Bilbo and Ori laugh.

            “I thought you said it was too cold?” Bilbo quipped.

            “Too cold to be _outside_ ,” Nori corrected. “But, if I’m not mistaken, isn’t there a casino on the island?”

            “Yes,” Bilbo admitted. “Owned and operated by the ruling family.”

            “Well, there you go,” Nori said with a shrug.

            “ _‘There you go’_ … what?” Ori asked.

            “Think of all those rich, old ladies,” Nori pointed out, “all going to Erebor for the ‘art’ and ‘culture’ and ‘spas’ and dragging their poor, rich, _bored_ , husbands who will have no interested in any of that shit, and simply want to spend their entire holiday in the casino … gambling. I will bet you dollars to donuts, that I can get a few of them to sit down to a friendly game of poker.”

            “So, what are you saying?” Bilbo asked. “Are you planning on going with us?”

            “I think I just might,” Nori said, giving it more than a passing thought.

            “What about your job?” Ori inquired.

            “What job?  Why do you think I’m home early,” Nori said dryly.

            “Oh … Nori!” Ori looked pained and shook his head.

            “It wasn’t my fault!” Nori insisted.

            “It never is,” Ori added under his breath.

            “This time it’s true,” Nori countered.

            “Whatever,” Bilbo said, throwing up his hands to stop his friends from fighting. “I’d be more than pleased to have Nori with us … the more the merrier.”

            “Thanks, Bil,” Nori said smugly as Ori shook his head and rolled his eyes.

            “Just one thing,” Bilbo said with a pointed look to Nori. “Promise me you’re not going to get in trouble with the Shamâr.”

            “The _what_?” Nori wasn’t sure that was a word or if Bilbo had coughed.

            “Shamâr,” Bilbo said again. “That’s the name for the Ereborean police. It means like ‘Guard’ or something in their ancient language.”

            Nori nodded his understanding. “Don’t worry,” Nori said with confidence. “They’ll never catch me.”

            Bilbo looked at Ori who gave his best friend a look that said, _you wanted him come_ , before turning back to Nori. “When you phrase it that way,” Bilbo said, “it doesn’t sound very reassuring.”

            Nori just shrugged and walked out, clearly heading towards his room.

            They sat in silence for a minute or so.

            “So,” Ori said with a sigh. “We’re really going to Erebor for our holiday.”

            Bilbo gave his friend a smile. “Will you just stop. We'll have a wonderful time, eat delicious food, see beautiful things, take lots of pictures and have the time of our lives.”

            “So says you,” Ori said resigned.

            “It will be fun,” Bilbo stated. “What’s to worry about?”

 

_**TBC** _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shamâr - Neo-Khuzdul for 'Guard'. Based, loosely, on the Irish Police, Garda Síochána


	3. The Dark Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another night at home ... in Castle Durin

* * *

 

**_THORIN'S BEDROOM_ **

* * *

 

 

 

            Thorin sat in his room, alone. He had been spending a great deal of time there, alone, to be honest. But being honest would mean making a confession, and confession meant speaking to others, and frankly, what the hell did they know anyway.

            The room was sparsely furnished; a giant Jacobean bed with heavy drapes of gold, leather chairs and a loveseat, a round table in the middle of the seating area and, of course, the huge rug which barely added to the warmth of the room.

            He had turned one of the chairs so that he could face the fireplace; staring into the flames as if he could will their heat onto himself. Despite the fireplace being large enough for two grown men to stand in and the fire within burning bright and hot, the flames three feet high, the room was still cold. At least, Thorin thought it was. But then, the cold he felt wasn’t temperature, wasn’t physical—he wasn’t really affected by that kind of cold anymore, or heat for that matter—no, this was a emotional chill that reached down into his bones and settled there. Again, not that he would admit it.

            He slowly raised the cut-crystal glass of dark amber whiskey to his mouth and drank, but he barely tasted it. After so many centuries, the pouring of his nightly drink and its consumption, were automatic; it was just something to do when there was nothing to do. And it wasn’t like the alcohol did anything for him; not in this form anyway.

            “You’re rather pensive, tonight,” said a soft, feminine voice from behind him.

            “What do you mean, _‘tonight’_?” Thorin replied neither turning to look at his sister nor breaking his gazing into the fire. “According to you and your sons, this is my normal disposition.”

            Dis came around Thorin's chair and took a seat on the arm; her floor length gown of sapphire blue velvet, pooling about her feet.

            “No,” Dis chided her brother gently, “you normally just brood. This … _sulking_ is a totally different matter.”

            Thorin would have loved to argue the point with her, but that would have required caring about the matter; which he didn’t. He merely took another sip of whiskey as his reply.

            “Why not come down to dinner?” Dis asked.

            “Dinner,” Thorin repeated flatly. “Still using banal words in an attempt to maintain normality where it doesn’t exist.”

            Dis sighed; she was quickly growing tired of his attitude. “You know perfectly well you are welcome to join us, but if you would rather sit up here—”

            “I would.”

            “—pouting, sulking, brooding … what-have-you … then that is your choice.”

            Thorin turned a sneering smile towards his sister.   “So glad to hear that I finally have choice.”

            Dis gave up, stood and left. Thorin didn’t turn and watch her go, he simply turned back to the flames and pretended that the whole world was on fire.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            The Lady Dis descended the stairs; her gown making the softest of sounds as she walked. She loved this dress; the velvet was heavy enough to drape beautifully, but still light enough that as she walked it billowed about her as if caught by a slight breeze. However, it was the gorgeous hand embroidery that blossomed up and over the bodice and sleeves that she loved the most. She felt very feminine, and lovely in it. Almost as is she was really alive.

            “Is Uncle not joining us?” Fili asked. He looked splendid in his charcoal grey suit and pale, pink dress shirt.

            “No,” Dis said as she completed the last few steps.

            “More for us,” Kili quipped with a smile. He too looked handsome in his dark grey dress pants, dove grey v-neck and white, collarless shirt.

            Dis was always proud of her boys. They always looked and dressed the part of the young Lords that they were.

            “Whatever your Uncle is going through will pass in time,” Dis said coming up and giving both boys a kiss on the cheek. “It always does.”

            Both men nodded. Uncle Thorin had his moods, best to leave him to it.

            “Come,” Dis said, turning her sons around and leading them to the dinning room doors. “Let’s have dinner before it gets scared.”

            “Yeah,” Kili said with a snicker, “and runs off again!”

            Both Fili and Dis laughed at that as Dis turned the handles and swung the doors open wide. The young man in the room might have laughed too, but being tied to a chair and gagged, didn’t exactly lend itself to humor.

 

 

 

_**DIS DINNER" ATTIRE** _

 

 

 


	4. Voyage of The Damned

* * *

 

 

            “Why the hell couldn’t we have just flown?!” Nori bitched loudly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like being on the ocean but he was wasting time as far as he was concerned and time meant money; or a lack of him making any.

            “We told you,” Bilbo called back from the washroom of their shared suite. “The fog is heavier this time of year and besides, Erebor’s airport is only for smaller, private planes.  The largest they handle are those business class ones, and you aren’t getting me in one of the flying coffins.” Bilbo hated, just _hated_ , to fly. In his opinion, if man was meant to fly, he’d have wings instead of arms.

            “It would've been a hell of a lot faster,” Nori spat out.

            “You could’ve paid for your own way to get there,” Ori said snidely. “But since you were more than happy to take a free trip, you really can’t complain that it isn’t to your likely.”

            “Yes I can,” Nori assured him.

            “Beggars can't be choosey,” Bilbo said loudly.

            “You’re supposed to be on my side, Bil,” Nori said jokingly.

            Bilbo just laughed. “You are always saying that you like to go it alone, so you certainly don’t need me, now do you.”

            “I will always need you, Bil,” Nori said with a familiar flirtatious tone, to which Bilbo just stuck his hand out the washroom door and gave Nori a two-fingered salute. Nori loved to flirt with Bilbo because he knew that Bilbo didn’t take it seriously and would dish it right back but it also made Ori disgruntled. Fun either way; it was a win/win for Nori.

            This time though, Ori totally ignored the exchange.  In fact, Ori was laying on his bunk in the shared cabin and flipping through a compact but thick history book on Erebor that Bilbo gifted him before they left London.

            “Hey, this is interesting,” Ori said loudly to get Bilbo’s attention. “Did you know that Erebor used to be three times the size it is now?”

            “Holy crap!” Bilbo said, as he exited the washroom. “Erebor is already half the size of Iceland! It would’ve been huge.” Ori nodded in agreement.

            “What did they do,” Nori asked, reclining on the opposite bunk and clearly bored. “Use the island for shelling practice in the war or something?”

            “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ori said with a roll of his eyes. “Erebor has always maintained total neutrality during all outside conflicts, including both world wars.”

            “Oh, excuse me, Mister Know-it-all,” Nori quipped.

            “So,” Bilbo cut in before the snark escalated to an argument, “what did happen?”

            Ori cleared his throat and shot his brother a venomous look before answering. “Well, according to renowned Ereborean geologist, Bofur Luinul, Erebor was once home to the largest volcano in the northern hemisphere, which was destroyed along with most of the island in a cataclysmic eruption around two hundred thousand years ago, not unlike the eruption of Krakatau. The eruption not only destroyed two thirds of the island, but the volcano and land mass sank into the caldera, closing it off and leading to the magma pocket’s eventual solidification. The eruption exposed the root of the island, allowing sea water to permeate the rock, seep deep into the earth’s crust, heat up and escape through the old fissures on the remaining island, thus explaining why the island no longer has volcanic activity but does have a large number of hot, mineral springs.”

            “How fascinating!” Bilbo agreed and came over to sit next to Ori and look at the book in the auburn-haired man’s lap.

            “Also,” Ori added, “geologists believe it is because of the numerous hot springs, the island is unusually warm for this latitudinal position and is often shrouded with thick fog.”

            “That’s interesting,” Bilbo had to agree with Ori.

            “Yeah, I’m riveted” Nori replied with a yawn. “In fact, I’m so excited I think I’ll go find some action elsewhere to calm myself.”

            “Don’t fall off the deck,” Ori said under his breath, sounding for all the world as if he wished his brother would.

            “Hard to fall off the deck, little brother,” Nori said, slipping on his dress jacket, “when you’re fucking some guy’s wife.”

            Bilbo just shook his head and tried not to laugh, while Ori made a disgusted sound.

            “You’re such a pig,” Ori threw out.

            “Oink, oink,” Nori said smirking; throwing Bilbo a wink and an air kiss before walking out of the cabin.

            “You shouldn’t let him flirt with you,” Ori told Bilbo firmly.

            “He’s only flirting,” Bilbo said with a shrug. “Besides, it would take more than that for Nori to get me in bed. As a matter of fact, Nori can’t get me in bed, and you know it.”

            “Still,” Ori was still disgusted by his brother. “You should tell him to bugger off.”

            “That would only encourage him more,” Bilbo said with more truth in the statement then either friend wanted to admit. “Come on, tell me more about Erebor.”

            Ori nodded and sat up on his bunk while Bilbo moved over to the other bunk and started to settle down. Having booked passage on a Symril-line ferry that made a stop at Erebor before continuing on to Iceland; they decided to get a family suite so that Nori could have a bed in one room while Bilbo and Ori would share the other room that had berths.

            “Did you know,” Ori continued on, “that Erebor was only ever invaded once during its whole history?”

            “Really?” Bilbo sounded generally surprised. “You mean like there were multiple tries by one group and only one suceeded?”         

            “By anyone,” Ori stated. “The Vikings were the only ones to try and they were defeated in a great battle in 968 CE.”

            “And the Vikings never tried again?”

            Ori shook his head. “So devastating was the loss that the invader’s name was lost to history. They only know that it started with an ‘S’ and he was known as ‘The Terrible’ to outsiders and as ‘The Dragon’ to his kinfolk. It was also during this battle that most of the ruling line, the Chieftain of Erebor, his son … the Heir-apparent, the heir’s youngest son and many of the cousins were wiped out. However, the oldest of the Heir’s sons survived as did his sister and nephews.”

            “What were their names?” Bilbo asked.

            “No one knows for sure,” Ori answered, having now turned to that part in his history book. “Apparently records from that time have been lost. But the current Lord of Erebor is a direct descendent of the surviving family.”

            Bilbo nodded but said no more. They were arriving at Erebor tomorrow around 3:30pm, just as the sun was setting. He wanted to be refreshed. He climbed into his bunk and turned over.

            As he drifted off to sleep, the soft sounds of Ori turning the pages of his history book, Bilbo’s mind filled with images of a great battle between the Ereborean army and the invading Viking warriors. He could almost hear the clash of swords and the blowing of horns as sleep finally took him.

 

 

 


	5. Erebor

* * *

 

 

            “A call came through,” Dwalin said, walking into Thorin’s study. “It seems there are concerns at the casino.”

            Thorin slowly looked up from the papers scattered on the desk and narrowed his eyes. “What kind of _‘concerns’_?” Thorin almost sneered the last word.

            Dwalin wasn’t the least bit afraid. Hell, he’d gotten used to Thorin’s growls and snarly attitude centuries ago. Besides, he knew that he wasn’t in the cross-hairs of the crossbow. “Seems that there are some characters casing the game tables.”

            “In what way?” Thorin asked, sitting back and bring his hands together, palms touching and resting the index fingers against his lips. It was almost like meditation and Dwalin knew Thorin did it when his mind was whirling and the wheels were turning. “Have they been … stealing or cheating?”

            “Not that Gloin can tell,” Dwalin stated. “But they seem to be going to different game tables, playing for a few hours before moving on to another table, coming back to an old table when a new croupier comes on to work.”

            “I see.” Thorin mulled the information over. “Sounds like they’re testing each dealer and probably watching for dealing style, patterns; probably weaknesses as well.” Dwalin nodded. “Does Gloin suspect the croupiers to be involved too?”

            “No,” Dwalin said flatly. “In fact, the croupiers were the first to point out a pattern.”

            Thorin’s turn to nod. “How many are involved?”

            “Gloin isn’t sure at this point,” Dwalin said, “but he knows of at least two. He’s got an eye on another.”

            “Possibly three,” Thorin said softly. “Maybe more.  And do any of them appear to be the leader?”

            “Again, Gloin isn’t sure,” Dwalin admitted, “however, he thinks they are all just front-men.”

            “Makes sense,” Thorin agreed. “Whoever is behind it won’t want us to see his … or _her_ , face. They would stand back and observe.” Thorin drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “I have a feeling that they are probably planning more than just cheating at the gambling tables.”

            “Gloin believes the same. He thinks that whatever is going on, it’s heading towards something bigger.”

            “Bigger as in a heist or as in a hustle?”

            “Given the state of security, Gloin is leaning towards a hustle but we just aren’t sure of much right now.”

            Thorin contemplated the whole thing. “Either the smaller tables and wins will be used as a distraction … or … whoever they are, they are slowing building a larger bankroll for one of the higher stakes games.” Poker was very popular—a few world-renown players were known to try their luck at Erebor’s tables—and least they forget, there was the Black-jack tournament scheduled for the end of December. And speaking of December, Christmas would bring an influx of wealthy patrons who enjoyed spending the holiday in Erebor and it’s casino. “Are they winning a great deal at the tables?”

            Dwalin shook his head. “Sometimes they loose, but that might just be a way to throw us off; they win more than loose.  And when they do win, it’s never anything that would seem … unreasonable … or get noticed; unless you add them all together. And we wouldn’t really, because the three we are watching are never seen together, their rooms aren’t near each other and they appear at different times, day or night.”

            After a few more deep breaths, during which Dwalin remained at parade-rest, hands behind his back, Thorin stood and moved from behind the desk. “Call Gloin; see if he can meet with us this afternoon.”

            “Right,” Dwalin said, turning to go.

            Thorin let his mind drift. Certainly wouldn’t be the first time a group of thieves tried their hand at taking on Erebor’s security; hoping to hustle a ton from the casino or its patrons. He couldn’t help but smile in a rather tired and bored way; if it was as it seemed, there was going to more than a few ‘invitations to dinner’ sent out in a few days.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            By the time the ship was docking, Bilbo and Ori were beside themselves.

            All day they had poured over the history book Bilbo had gifted Ori and a small tour book Bilbo brought for himself; Ori making notes on what to see and what to do. From the Uzbad Kuzrû, which translated to ‘The King’s Palace’, that housed art and treasures of Erebor’s history to the Viking museum with it’s artifacts from the invasion and battle. There were walking tours of the surrounding area and hot springs, restaurant tours and organized pub crawls; art houses and theatres, including a small opera house that performed in a renaissance style, where the singers wore costumes but didn’t act—only stood on stage and sang the story; wondrous in their eyes. And, as Nori continued to point out, there was also gambling at the casino and shows with some of Europe’s top acts. With so many places and things to see—the list of sights quite long—by the time they had stood at the side rails of the ship, watching as the ship slowly approached the wharf; they were both vibrating with excitement.

            The lights of Dale beyond beacon them like a candle flame in the slowly encroaching darkness; to come, to see, to be part of the world that was Erebor.

            “Doesn’t look like much,” Nori chipped in, standing just behind Ori.

            “Only you,” Ori tsked, “could look upon the beauty that is Erebor and its port capital and dismiss it.” The capital city of Dale sat in a bowl shaped area, but one could see houses and buildings terraced on the surrounding hills of the town.

            “That’s not true,” Nori protested. “I am desperate to see the _beauty_ of the casino.”

            Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Well then, feast your eyes on that,” Bilbo pointed to a large, Beaux-Arts building that stood on a particularly tall hill that made the building appear as if it was looming over the town. It was beautiful, especially all lit up and it could have been a hotel in any other city except for the bright sign that stated in white lights, _‘Arkenstone Casino and Hotel.’_

“Nice,” Nori said with a appreciative nod. “We will need to spend a great of time there. I know I will.”

            “Don’t get your hopes up,” Ori stated flatly. “That’s way over our budget.”

            “Actually,” Bilbo said quietly, “we have three adjourning rooms on the third floor.”

            Both brothers looked at Bilbo incredulously, but for different reasons.

            “You’re brilliant, you know that?” Nori exclaimed as he leaned forward and planted a kiss on Bilbo’s cheek.

            “You’re crazy!” Ori said, looking as if he would fall over. “That’s way too expensive! You shouldn’t—”

            “What?” Bilbo said firmly. “Treat myself and my best friends to the red carpet treatment? Splurge a few extra pounds for an experience that we won’t ever forget?”

            Ori looked chastened and Bilbo did feel a bit bad; he didn’t want to fight. But Ori just had to understand how important this was to Bilbo.

            “Ori,” Bilbo said, placing his hands gently on his best friend’s shoulders and bringing them closer. “Thanks to my grandparents and parents, I have more money than God, and frankly, if I can’t use it to have a great time with you and Nori, then it will just sit there in the bank and when I’m dead, my horrible cousin will get it and he and his wife will spend it only on themselves.”

            Ori knew of who Bilbo spoke and shuttered at the thought, even though it wasn’t his cousin.

            “I have no siblings,” Bilbo continued softly. “Only one cousin I like and he and his wife and baby-boy are already well-off themselves. Let me, _please_ , have this! Let me have a great time with you two. Let me enjoy this vacation like … like it will be our last. Please, I beg you to just forget about the money, because in the end, that’s all it is … money. It was meant to be spent.”

            Ori laughed at Bilbo’s little rhyme and gave Bilbo a smile. “Okay. I’ll try, Bilbo. I really will.”

            “You are like the brother I never had,” Bilbo pressed. “Nori too. And I would do anything for my family.”

            “Jesus, Bil,” Nori cut in. “When you put it that way, even _I_ feel bad!”

            That made them all laugh, but Bilbo drew the others into a group hug. He absolutely loved them like family and he wanted to make sure they would never forget this time.

            “Come on,” Bilbo demanded when they finally let each other go. “Let’s go get our shit, and get off this barge, and start our adventure!”

            The other two agreed and they set off.

            “With everything we have planned,” Ori said with a giggle, “I hope we survive it!”

 

 

**_Hotel Mairie de Paris - the inspiration for 'The Akenstone Casino and Hotel'_ **

 

 

 


	6. Worlds Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One really must watch where one is going or else you never know who you will meet ....

* * *

 

 

_**DALE AT NIGHT, ON THE ISLE OF EREBOR** _

 

* * *

 

 

            Naturally, Nori had to complain about the transportation. Ori explained that most vehicles were electric and most of the electricity on Erebor was geothermal, adding, once again, that he was an ungrateful git and what Nori needed was to bloody well walk his lazy arse up to the hotel. Nori shot back that Ori was a bitchy queen and that Ori needed a good buggering to calm his arse down. That comment earned Nori a sharp smack to the back of his head by said bitchy brother.

            Through it all, Bilbo just laughed. He found the bickering hilarious and, if he was honest, comforting. But over all, he didn’t care because they were here, together, like a family, on Erebor and it was going to be fantastic!

            The taxi driver took them the long way, at Bilbo’s request, through the city. Like Amsterdam, the city had many canals with tall houses and businesses built close to the water. Lights lit up the bridges and sidewalks and little plazas as well as the buildings. It was beautiful in the dusky light of the setting sun and the whole place felt magical.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            “Any further developments?” Thorin asked. He was almost bored. It was the same thing all the time, every season, every year.

            “We have narrowed it down,” Gloin said. “There are three we've confirmed, playing the tables and watching the different croupiers. However, we still don’t suspect any of them of being the leader. They have still done nothing to connect to each other, except their behavior, which is too specific for it to be random on all three of their parts.”

            “Any idea who _might_ be behind it?” Dwalin asked, standing behind Thorin and dressing in his Shamâr uniform that identified him as Deputy Commissioner, although he wasn’t actually part of the force.

            “We have our eye on two individuals at this point,” Gloin stated, “but there is no clear indication which of them, or if either of them, is the actual mastermind.”

            “Keep on it, Gloin,” Thorin stated, standing up to go. “Let us know as soon as you have something.”

            “Aye, my lord,” Gloin said, standing himself and giving Thorin a small bow from the waist.

            As the exited Gloin’s office and made their way through the casino, Thorin pulled his sunglasses down to cover his eyes. The lights weren’t bright but his eyes still could dazzle anyone that looked directly at him and he simply wanted to get out and get home. He pulled his long black coat together and buttoned it up as Dwalin pulled him out of his silence.

            “Do you think we should have Fili and Kili on the casino floor?” Dwalin asked.

            “Wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Thorin thought. “Maybe have Kili play the playboy while Fili hangs back; observe who Kili attracts.”

            Dwalin nodded. “Might work. Hell, we might get more fish than we plan on catching.”

            “Just more invitations for us to send out,” Thorin said flatly. The car was waiting for them outside and Thorin could only focus on getting to it, getting in and getting the hell out. Mortals made him nervous; one wrong move, one wrong turn and they could pick up the wrong signal, the wrong ‘vibe’ as they said, which Thorin hated, and then there would be that annoying staring and maybe watching or asking questions. That so didn’t sit well with—

            It happened too fast and too quick.

            The very thing Thorin wanted to avoid happened right at the front entrance, with a large crowd around him. Some young man, his nose buried in a book, not watching closely, ran right into him and because of Thorin’s ‘strength’; the guy was thrown to the ground as if tackled by an armored knight.

            There were gasps from a few nearby, murmurs from others and a few ‘rubber-necks’ from others who continued to walk past but turned to watch at the scene. However, the worst was that the crowd had parted and there was now a circle around them with Thorin and Dwalin, along with the guy’s two friends, not to mention the guy himself still sprawled on the floor, right in the center of attention.

            Thorin was far from pleased.

            “You should have a care of where you are going,” Dwalin drawled with a hint of amusement in his voice as he reached to help the guy up.

            But Dwalin didn’t get that far before a voice cut through it all.

            “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HE SHOULD HAVE A CARE?!” a shorter, honey-blond man shouted. “What about your friend?! He should watch where he is going!”

            “I should watch?!” Thorin thundered back. “I wasn’t the one—”

            “You are head and shoulders above most here!” The shorter man continued. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see him coming! Or maybe you just don’t care for those ‘beneath' you!’”

            Thorin sneered. “I never said—”

            “Your rudeness speaks volumes for your attitude!”

            “Excuse me, but I’m not the one who's being—”

            “Clearly you are one of those people who believes because you're rich you can just push people around and walk all over the others! Well, let me tell you, _sir_ , we are not dirt under your feet and we won’t stand for being treated like dogs in the street by the likes of you!”

            “Do you have any idea, who—”

            “I wouldn’t care if you were the Lord of Erebor himself! You would still be a rude, arrogant sod!”

            Dwalin was clearly amused, as was the silent man with other two, who had the same coloring and hair as the young man on the floor. Dwalin, again, reached down to help the slim, ginger-haired but his hand was pushed away.

            “I can do it myself, thank you,” the young man said, red-faced and obviously embarrassed.

            Thorin was incensed! Who the hell did this little … little … _muppet_ think he is to yell at him! And in public no less!

            The ginger-haired guy was standing now and being fussed over by his blond friend.

            “Are you sure you’re all right?” the blond asked.

            “I’m fine. Really, Bilbo,” the redhead answered a tad tersely.

            As the blond lead his friend away, he shot a heated glare at Thorin and spat out,  “Prat!” in Thorin’s direction.

            The crowd was dissipating but certainly not Thorin’s mood which was now as black as the quickly darkening sky.

            The third guy suddenly smacked Dwalin on the shoulder and caught the burly guard’s attention. “See you around, big guy,” the bloke gave Dwalin a cheeky wink, which made Dwalin puff up with indignation instantly.

            Thorin stormed off towards the limo, the remaining crowd parting like the red sea before Moses. It was only after he and Dwalin were in the car and Thorin had time to breathe and catch his breath, did he speak.

            “Did I just get …” Thorin was at a loss. “What’s the phrase? ‘Dressed Up?’”

            Dwalin rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Dressed down,” he corrected his lord and cousin. “And no, you didn’t get _dressed down_ , you got _told off_ – in spectacular fashion no less.”

            Thorin’s mood now hit sub-zero temperatures. Fuck ‘dinner!’ He had a good mind to bypass all invitations and simply chase that little … _mouse_ , through the forest!

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            “I have to hand it to you, Bil,” Nori said with a little too much humor for Bilbo’s liking, and slapping a hand on Bilbo’s back. “You certainly know how to make an impression with a guy!”

            They had checked in and were handing over their luggage to the porter to help them up to their rooms.

            “Arrogant bastard,” Bilbo muttered. “Who does he think he is?!”

            Bilbo was not about to let some snobby knob ruin his vacation!

            Nori cleared his throat and tapped Bilbo on the shoulder to get his attention. When Bilbo turned around with a questioning look, Nori was simply pointing up to the wall. There before them was a huge oil painting of the very man they had their encounter with and Bilbo felt the blood drain from his face as he read the nameplate.

 

**_‘Thorin, son of Thrain, Lord of Erebor’_ **

****

            They all stood there like Greek statues for several long seconds before Ori stated, “I guess we know now who he thinks he is.”

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            By the time he reached the castle, Thorin was in rage. He burst through the doors and marched his way inside.

            “How was everything at the casino?” Dis asked softly, missing Thorin’s mood until the last second as she met him at the bottom of the stairs. “What’s wrong?!”

            Thorin waved her off with a release of expletives, and continuing to swear and curse as he stomped upstairs; heading to his bedroom.

            “ _What_ happened?” Dis asked, turning to Dwalin.

            From upstairs, the two cousins could hear Thorin’s voice rising and the swearing had now switched to ancient Khuz-dul, which was accompanied by the sounds of smashing. The clanging of armor was heard next; they watched as a disembodied helm came flying through the air, only to bounce, roll down the stairs, and finally come to rest at their feet.

            Dwalin turned to Dis and smiled, wickedly, “Thorin just met his match.”

 

 

 


	7. Siblings and Saboteurs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin won't even know what hit them ...

* * *

  

Kili was beside himself.  “You mean, he—”

            “Apparently," Dis confirmed, "it was quite the sight to be seen."

            “And Uncle did _nothing_?!” Fili was shocked.

            “According to Dwalin there wasn’t much to be done.”  Dis shrugged, still not quite sure how to use it to her advantage.

            “I can’t believe it!”

            “I _don’t_ believe it!”

            “Ah, but it’s all true.”

            “You’re really sure?”

            “How do you know?”

            “Simple, my loves," Dis cooed, "I called cousin Gloin and he confirmed the whole thing.”

            Dis sat at the table, nursing the drink before her. She did love anything hot; tea, coffee, brandy - _blood_. As long as it was warm, it made her feel almost alive. 

            Almost.

            “How is Uncle this morning?” Fili asked, taking a slow sip of his black coffee.

            “Calmer, I imagine,” Dis said. “I mean, at least it’s quiet.” Even long after the sound of things smashing had stopped, Dis heard Thorin stalking back and forth his room for most of the night, swearing and cursing this … ‘Bilbo Baggins’, person.

            “And how did you find out his name?” Fili was intrigued, especially since he swore his mother had developed psychic abilities being so powerful and all; which she continued to tell him to not be so silly. She had no such powers at all.

            “Dwalin heard his friend refer to him by his first name, and Gloin was kind of enough to provide his last.”

            The boys just sat there, Fili sitting with his elbows on the table, lost in thought while Kili lounged sideways in his, one leg thrown over an arm of the chair. Both had cups of steaming coffee in front of them which were ignored at present.

            “What is Uncle planning on doing, do you think?” Kili asked wiggly his eyebrows and a gleam in his eyes.

            “I think the bigger question,” Fili interjected, “is what is _Mother_ planning on doing; because we know you Mum … you are planning something; aren’t you?”

            Dis stood, picked up her cup of hot tea and walked the length of the room; she stared out the lead glass windows towards the city of Dale in the distance.

            It had been ages—literally ages—since Thorin had shown even the slightest sign of ‘life.’ And suddenly, this outspoken, forthright, opinionated, honey-blond man had done what no one in centuries had been able to do—rouse an emotional response from Thorin, son of Thrain. Why it was positively too good to be true, too good to pass up! Granted, Thorin had been in a rage and was probably still fuming up in his room, but so what?!

            Dis took a slow, lazy sip of tea before bring the cup back down, cradling it with both hands and turning to her boys; her precious gems.

            “I think," Dis said elegantly with a single, cocked eyebrow, "I will invite them to dinner."

            Both boys nodded and exchanged a quick look, before Kili spoke up. “You _are_ going to tell Uncle you are inviting him, right?”

            “No,” Dis said, shrugging one shoulder. “I see no reason to bother Thorin with _minor_ details.”

            “You realize,” Fili stated, “that Uncle will probably be _furious_ that you invited Bilbo to dinner and didn’t tell him.”

            Dis tsked at that. “Oh, nonsense,” she waved off the comment. “Thorin will be _thrilled._ ”

            There was silence for the length of two heartbeats before all three burst into riotous laughter. And that was just at the thought of Thorin’s reaction! Wait until they actually got Thorin in Bilbo in the same room!

            Priceless!

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            Bilbo was tired but sated. They had taken trip to see the ‘Geyser Gardens’, an area with a dozen of small geysers in a tightly compact area, and then explored the ruins of one of the ancient settlements to the northwest of the capital. When they arrived back at the hotel, just after lunch, Nori decided he wanted to gamble the afternoon away, so Bilbo and Ori went out to roam near the hotel. Now, seated and having just ordered dinner, Bilbo was excited about tomorrow—an extensive all day tour of Dale; tea shops, gift shops, textiles—Erebor was famous for sweaters made of the hair of local wild sheep. The following day he and Ori had a tour of Uzbad Kuzrû, ‘The King’s Palace’, planned to see the exhibits of Erebor’s historic treasures.

            “So,” Bilbo said, passing the menus to the waiter, who had just taken their order. “Are you coming with us tomorrow?”

            “No,” Nori said, taking a deep drink of his Erebor Ale. “I’m going to stay right here; where it’s warm.”

            “You mean where the tables are _hot_ ,” Ori quipped, taking a sip of his white wine.

            “And the women are even hotter,” Nori said with a wink, which only earned him an eye-roll from his brother.

            “Are you going to spend your entire vacation in the casino?” Bilbo ask, amused, taking a deep inhale of his red wine's bouquet, before partaking a small drink.

            “Not sure,” Nori stated honestly. “Depends on what else comes my way.”

            “More like _who else_ ,” Ori snarked under his breath.

            “Hey,” Nori said, after another deep drink. “Don’t be pissy with me, just because you missed out on the hot guard. I mean, he offered you his hand and you pushed him away.”

            “Well, you didn’t have to swoop in!” Ori said with a sneer.

            “The second mouse gets the cheese,” Nori said with a smirk.

            “Rat is closer to the truth,” Ori pouted.

            Bilbo huffed out a sigh. “Alright,” he commanded quietly. “Enough. Let’s please let it go.”

            “He started it!” both Nori and Ori said at once.

            Bilbo didn’t say anything while the two brother glared at each other, seeing who who break first. As always, it was Ori.

            “I’m going to the loo,” Ori said and left the table.

            Bilbo watched Ori walk away before he turned back to Nori. “Why do you always start on him about his love life?”

            “Because,” Nori said throwing up a hand, “he truly needs to find some guy who will plow his arse and bang his head into the headboard for a few hours; maybe then he would get some sense knocked into it!”

            “Bullshit,” Bilbo stated. “You run off any guy that shows even a tiny bit of interest in Ori, and anyone that _Ori_ shows interest in, you swoop in and snag for yourself, so don’t play this off like you are doing him any favors.”

            Nori sat there and looked like he wanted to argue but they both knew that Bilbo was correct.

            “ _And_ ,” Bilbo continued on, “you know that … policeman or guard or whatever he was … would have just been Ori’s type if he’d had the time to notice, but you had to flirt with him and then rub in Ori’s face that he missed his chance.”

            “You said yourself last night,” Nori countered, “that our chances of seeing him again are slim so what’s the problem”

            “What’s the problem?” Bilbo repeated. “The problem is that you have got to back off him. You’re always saying that Dori drove Ori away with his smothering-mothering, and yet, here you are, not only smothering him, but bloody tormenting him as well.”

            Nori sighed and deflated. Bilbo wasn’t lying and he knew it. “What can I do, Bil? He’s my kid brother.”

            “He’s your kid brother,” Bilbo stated firmly, “who is almost thirty-one years old. Now just stop it and let him live his own life. He doesn’t need another sibling to interfere and meddle.”

            “Speaking of siblings,” said a cool, feminine voice behind them both.

            Bilbo and Nori turned around and found themselves staring at the most captivating woman either had seen; although neither confessed it out loud. She was dressed in a form fitting, floor length, one-shoulder white gown that had a deep slit up one side that reveled a long, elegant leg.

            “Can we help you?” Bilbo said a bit dazzled.

            “I hope so,” said the lady. “Are you Bilbo Baggins?”

            “Yes,” Bilbo was stunned. _How does she know my name?_ “And you are?”

            “My name is Dis. Lady Dis of Erebor.”

 

 

 


	8. An Unrefusable Invitation

* * *

 

 

            _“Are you Bilbo Baggins?”_

_“Yes. And you are?”_

_“My name is Dis. Lady Dis of Erebor.”_

 

            Bilbo thought he would faint. “Lady Dis?” He swallowed thickly as he and Nori stood up.

            “Yes,” Dis said with a sly smile. “I hope I’m not intruding?”

            “Not at all,” Nori replied smoothly with a cunning smile of his own. Bilbo almost face-palmed; Nori was turning on the charm like an Edison light bulb.

            “I’m glad to hear it, _Mister_ _Ryland_ ,” Dis’ smile was almost a smirk; she wasn’t fooled. But then, Nori didn’t look like he was concerned.

            Bilbo pulled out a chair for Dis. “Would you … care to join us, your ladyship?”

            “Thank you, Mister Baggins,” Lady Dis said, sitting down. “And please, just call me Dis. ‘Your Ladyship’ makes me feel like I am a female boat.”

            Both he and Nori laughed at that as they sat back down, but Bilbo’s was a bit forced. While he didn’t _exactly_ know why Dis had sought him out, he had a good idea.

            Unlike Bilbo, Nori was in his element. “So, what do we owe this … _most_ pleasurable surprise to?” Nori bestowed Dis with a slight raised eyebrow and at the same time, poured the lady a glass of Bilbo’s red wine.

            Dis did laugh and it was both throaty and genuine. “Well … naturally I’m here to see Mister Baggins regarding my brother; Lord Durin.” Dis picked up the glass and saluted Nori with it before taking a sip and turning her gaze on Bilbo.

            _Yep,_ Bilbo thought, _this is it._ As he suspected, she was apparently there to have him politely removed out the hotel, escorted down to the docks and probably thrown onto the nearest rubbish scow so that he could be deport to—wherever—for daring to insult her brother, the Lord of Erebor!

            “I’m so incredibly sorry,” Bilbo said quickly. “I had no idea who he was and I was just so concerned over Ori and that he might be hurt and my mouth just ran away from me and I can’t tell you how embarass—”

            “Mister Baggins,” Dis held up a hand, cutting Bilbo off. “Are you under the impression that I’m … _upset_ with you?”

            Dis looked amused but Bilbo wasn’t. “Aren’t you? I mean … shouldn’t you be?”

            Again, Dis leased a laugh. “No.”

            “You aren’t?” Bilbo just couldn’t process it.

            “Of course not,” Dis seemed truly surprised.

            “You aren’t going to have us deported or … extradited, or something?”

            “Deported?!” Dis laughed again and this time it was near uncontrolled. “What in the world would give you that idea?” Bilbo just gaped and Dis turned to Nori. “Is he always like this?”

            Nori smirked. “He can be a bit overdramatic at times.”

            “I am not!” Bilbo stated stiffly.

            “See,” Nori smiled at Dis. “What did I tell you? For some reason, he has this notion that having manners means every wrong move requires a sentence of crucifixion.”

            “I never said any such thing!” Bilbo hissed out while Dis and Nori shared yet another laugh.

            “But you don’t,” Dis said to Nori; giving him a narrowed look.

            “Not at all,” Nori said, relaxing even more. “I believe that sometimes, the _wrong_ move can lead to the _right_ situation. I mean, yesterday, Bilbo insulted your brother and today I am enjoying the company of a beautiful lady. That’s all kinds of right to me.”

            Dis nodded. “Tell me, Mister Ryland, do you get results with lines like that?”

            Nori wasn’t in the least bit phased. “Depends entirely on the lady.”

            “I see,” Dis said, sitting back and taking a drink of her wine. “So it depends on if she is dim enough to buy it?”

            “On the contrary,” Nori said with confidence. “I wouldn’t waste my time on a dim woman; it’s more of whether the lady in question is smart enough to see through it and yet still buy what I am selling.”

            “And are you for sale, Mister Ryland?” Dis asked with a ghost of a smile.

            “Everyone has a price,” Nori replied with a wink. “And the name’s Nori.”

            “Nori,” Dis said, trying out the name with a low, silky voice. “I’m afraid I’m not buying today, just browsing.” Dis was making it clear, she wasn’t taking Nori’s bait, but nor was their little game necessarily over. She turned back to Bilbo. “Now, Mister Baggins—”

            “Call me Bilbo, please. And I’m truly, very sorry and embarrassed about what happened between Lord Durin and me.”

            “You mustn’t blame yourself, Bilbo. Thorin is just … _furious_ … over the misunderstanding.”

            “He is?”

            “Torn up really.”

            “Really?”

            “Wrecked.”

            “Honestly?”

            “Miserable.”

            “Goodness. I didn’t mean for him to—”

            “We’d like to invite you for dinner,” Dis said smoothly. “As a way to settle the matter.”

            “Oh ... well,” Bilbo looked at Nori for help, but realized Nori would say yes no matter what. “We don’t ... want to intrude ... or ... cause any problems.”

            “Nonsense,” Dis said with a smile. “Having you would be a pleasure.”

            “Well …” Bilbo wasn’t sure.

            Nori cut in. “He’s delusional. We’d love to come.”

            “Excellent!” Dis looked like the cat that got the canary. “We’ll send the car for you here, at the hotel, around five pm.”

            Bilbo glared at Nori but didn’t say anything more.

            “We’ll be ready,” Nori intoned, ignoring Bilbo while bestowing Dis with another slick smile.

            “I’m sure you will be,” Dis said with cocked eyebrow.

            “You can bet on it,” Nori replied.

            Dis stood up to leave but not before giving a pointed look to Nori and saying, “I’m not sure betting on you would be wise; you strike me as having too many odds in your favor.”

            “I play to win,” Nori shot back and Dis just laughed as walked away.

            Bilbo couldn’t believe what just happened. _What did just happen?!_ One minute he was in fear of being thrown into the icy sea to swim back to England and the next, he had a coveted invitation to dine with the Lord and Lady of Erebor!

            “Sorry I took so long,” Ori stated as he took his seat. Although, neither Bilbo nor Nori replied as they were both lost in their own internal musings, Ori quickly picked up on it. “Did I miss something?”

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            “So? Is he coming?” Kili was vibrating with excitement.

            “Yes, they’re all coming,” Dis replied, handing off her coat to the servant.

            “What’s he like?” Fili asked.

            “Hmmm … fussy,” Dis quipped as she walked passed and went into the sitting room.

            “Fussy?” Kili’s face screwed up like he had sucked a lemon.

            “Doesn’t sound promising,” Fili stated flatly.

            “On the contrary,” Their mother continued, looking just as pleased as before. “I think we will have a very interesting night tomorrow.”

            “What do you think Uncle will say?” Fili queried.

            “Say to what?” Thorin growled out as he entered the room, went to the bookcase and selected a large tome.

            “We’re having guests tomorrow,” Dis said before clarifying. “For dinner.”

            “Dinner,” Thorin groused out with a shake of his head. “Inane chatter, self-centered conversations, pointless discussions; count me out.”

            “You’ll be there,” Dis said with a hard tone and made Thorin turn and glare at his sister. “We’ll _all_ be there; attendance is unrefusable.”

            Thorin looked very much like he did want to refuse. “Fine! But I want Dwalin there; that way there will be at least one person I can actually converse with!”

            As Thorin stormed out, Dis had to smile to herself. Once he found out who was coming, Dis was sure Thorin would have plenty to converse about!

 

 

 


	9. You Again!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So nice to run into ... old fiends. (I mean, friends)

* * *

 

 

            “Where are you going this early in the day?” Dis asked; stepping into the private dining hall and seeing Thorin dressed to go out.

            “If you must know—” Thorin started gruffly.

            “I must.”

            “—I’m going to see Balin.” Thorin downed his hot, black coffee and made to put on his jacket.

            “Why ever for?” Dis poured her usual cup of tea; adding lots of sugar.

            “I have a feeling this issue at the casino,” Thorin said, now reaching for his overcoat, “may well require the entire family.”

            “Seriously?” Dis could tell that Thorin wasn’t playing. “What gives you that impression?”

            “Not sure,” Thorin said as he checked for his sunglasses and phone. “And I could be wrong.”

            “You haven’t even sent the boys in yet.”

            “I know.”

            “But you’re still concern?”

            “Something is telling me that there is more here, _far more_ , than just a simple heist or con.”

            Dis nodded. Thorin could be a right pain in the arse and a real killjoy at times, but one thing he wasn’t was melodramatic; she had come to rely on his ability to ‘feel’ a situation completely, even when all the facts haven’t been reveled.

            “Give him my best,” Dis said, moving to slip a small white rosebud in the lapel of Thorin’s suit jacket.

            Thorin gazed down at the flower and smirked, but he didn’t remove it. “I’ll do that.” Thorin planted a kiss on Dis’ forehead and headed out the room. He was stopped just on the threshold by Dis’ voice.

            “And Thorin,” Dis said with a genteel sip of her tea. “Don’t be late for dinner.” Dis laughed when Thorin growled low under his breath but still nodded and left. She was so looking forward to the evening!

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

_**Hohenwerfen Castle - the inspiration for _ **The King’s Palace, or Uzbad Kuzrû**_** _

 

 

            “I still can’t believe it,” Ori whispered.

            “You can’t?!” Bilbo whispered back. “I’m still in a bit of a daze; I’m telling you, when Lady Dis came up to the table, I was convinced we were about to be unceremoniously tossed out on our arses.”

            “To think,” Ori continued in an incredulous whisper, “we’re not only dining with the royal family but at Castle Durin as well!”

            “Is there a problem at the back,” the voice of the tour guide cut through Bilbo and Ori’s conversation like a hot knife.

            “Uhm … sorry,” Ori replied quickly, “no problem, sir.”

            The guided nodded, still a look of vague disapproval in his sharp eyes, but he turned back and continued his explanations.

            Bilbo and Ori looked around in their embarrassment, but sighed when they noticed that no one else was looking at them.

            The King’s Palace, or Uzbad Kuzrû as it was called in the ancient, native language of Erebor, was situated on a large hill, approximately fifteen kilometers from Port Dale. It wasn’t opulent like Versailles, nor was it fairy tale in style like Neuschwanstein, but rather bulky and fortress like, similar in style to castles found in Romania or other Slavic countries. Bilbo was sure that many would find it heavy, perhaps even cold and formidable, but he could see the austere beauty and told himself that this had been a working castle, not one for leisure. In fact, even on the sloping, walled terrace, one had a good view of the port city and, of course, any invading force long before it would reach the shore; clever.

            They knew they wanted time to get ready for this evening—well, Bilbo and Ori wanted time, Nori just laughed and said he only needed thirty minutes to dress; the bastard. So their original plans, an extensive all day tour of Dale, were moved to the following day and a tour of Uzbad Kuzrû was moved up—now they could take their time at the palace and still have plenty of time to get back to the Arkenstone to get ready and wait for the car.

            They had arrived right when the castle opened. Since they weren’t necessarily pressed for time; not going anywhere else before dinner, they decided a guided tour would be in order first, and then wander the old palace on their own; they could go back to the things that interested them. They were glad they did in the end.

            Erebor had been settled during in the late Iron Age to the earliest time of the Middle Age.   Exactly were the original people of Erebor came from was a mystery; all anyone could agree to was that they were not Vikings per se, but perhaps an isolated off shoot or even a nomadic tribe that set sail to find new lands over the water rather than on foot.

            The tour started with the oldest artifacts; crude weapons and pottery, little to no decorations and delicate in their ancient fragility. However, artifacts from just a century or so from settle showed that already the Ereboreans were developing their skills in metalwork to new levels. Even the weapons of the second era were decorated with geometric knot work and the jewelry was becoming finer as it simultaneously became more complex and beautiful.

            Next was the extensive collection of artifacts from the Viking invasion and subsequent battle of 968 CE. Bilbo and Ori both confessed to feeling as if they were in the middle of the maelstrom. There were weapons and shields form both sides, even a partially preserved Viking ship that had, according to the marker, been raised out of the mud of the harbor. There was a replica of an Ereborean dwelling; simple turf covered single room houses that were efficient, if not elaborate.

            The walls of the room they were housed were painted with life-size depictions of the battle; especially with the King and his son, the Heir-apparent, charging into battle, the hair flowing behind them and their bearded faces frozen in what one could only imagine were battle cries.   It was, in fact, while they were standing in front of, and staring at, the portrait of the royals in battle that the wall suddenly opened; a door hidden by the painting. There was no time to react and in an instant, both Bilbo and Ori were thrown to the floor while it seemed everyone in the room gasped at their fall.

            Twin voices sounded, “Here, let me help you.”

            Bilbo glanced to his right and saw that Ori was staring up at the large, burly guard that had been at the hotel, while the guard was bestowing Ori with an amused but gentle smile. Bilbo realized at that moment that he too had a hand thrust in his face and he turned to look up and lock eyes with none other than Lord Durin himself.

            The lord’s only response was an incredulous look and equally astonished, _“You again?!”_

 

 

 


	10. Once More, With Feelings

* * *

 

 

            _“You again?!”_

            Thorin couldn’t believe his luck; or lack there of. Right before him was the annoying little man who had no right to call him out for a simple accident! He was tempted just to tell the little mouse _exactly_ where he could stick his opinions, and bugger off! He didn’t give a rat-arse who was near or who heard him either! Why, Thorin would be glad to dress him down so far he’d have to bend over to unbutton his shirt! He should—

            _… terribly sorry I am_

            “Excuse me?” Thorin hadn’t caught a single thing the man had, apparently, just said. While lost in his thoughts the man had accepted Thorin’s hand and Thorin had automatically helped the creature up off the floor.

            “My Lord!” Balin said, coming up behind him, out of the office. “Are you alright?”

            Thorin was many things but he truly didn’t feel superior, nor was he insensitive. “Considering I wasn’t the one knocked to the floor, I don’t believe I should be asked that question.”

            “Oh my, of course!” Balin said, turning to the blond-haired man. “Are you alright, sir.”

            “Yes,” the man said, red-faced and clearly embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have been standing so close to the door; I just didn’t see it.”

            Balin looked around and tutted. “There is usually a sign here to indicate not to step too close. It seems it was moved when they polished the floor last night.” Balin gave Thorin apologetic look but Thorin wasn’t worried about that.

            “What did you say, before?” Thorin asked the blond.

            “I said,” the man replied, glancing up at Thorin. “You have no idea how terribly sorry I am.”

            “Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Balin interjected.

            “No, really,” the blond said with a rather sweet smile. “Other than injured pride, I’m fine.”

            Baling laughed and the blond giggled at the little joke, while Thorin was having a hard time equating the man before him with the one throwing insults at him the other day.

            “There is no need for apologies,” Thorin said gruffly. “You couldn’t have seen the door without the sign.”

            “No … uhm,” the blond said, hesitating and turning red-faced again.

            The ginger-haired guy nudged the blond and loudly whispered, “Go on.”

            “About the other day,” the blond continued.

            Thorin stiffened and stood a little taller; if the guy wanted to go at it again, he would find that Thorin wasn’t going to be taken in by his rosey cheeks and bright eyes; oh no, Thorin was far more prepared—

            _… was wrong_

“What?” Thorin had once again missed what the guy said.

            The blond didn’t seem offended; merely looked more like he feared Thorin would strike him. “I said, that while I was very concerned for Ori, that in no way excused my behavior; I was wrong. I made appalling assumptions about your character and accused you of being sorely responsible for something that was, in retrospect, clearly an accident.”

            Thorin could only stare back. Had he heard correctly? Had the man just apologized to him and … _sincerely_ to boot? Thorin was used to people groveling and sniveling when they had wronged him. He was used to being treated like some demi-god who would bring wrath and ruin down upon them for the slightest offense. He was used to his people treating him differently because of his position and status. All that he was used to was irritating and annoying and more than a little exasperating because they never viewed him as a person, as an individual, as someone with feelings—they viewed him in terms of fear and his title; and little else.

            But not this time, not this situation, not this man before him; for the first time in a very, very, _very_ long time, Thorin was being treated as … as a _human being_.

            “What is your name?” Thorin asked quietly.

            “Baggins,” the blond replied. “Bilbo Baggins.”

            “Bilbo Baggins,” Thorin repeated. It was as if he was seeing Bilbo for the first time and this time, he was … _intrigued_ by what he saw. “Master Baggins, I—”

            “Just, Bilbo, please,” Bilbo stated gently and graced Thorin with a small smile; a smile that Thorin thought lit up the shorter man’s face beautifully.

            “Bilbo,” Thorin said. “Let me offer my own apologies.”

            “Oh you don’t need to—”

            “Indeed I do; if you can admit your error, so can I. I was distracted by my own thoughts and should have been more watchful as you pointed out and I should not have left it to my second,” Thorin gestured to Dwalin, “to be the one to offer assistance to your friend. I should have done it myself.”

            “You can’t be faulted for that,” Bilbo insisted. “I distracted you and had I given you the time, I’m sure you’d have been more than gracious about it. Sadly, I didn’t give you that time.”

            Who _is_ this man? Despite his crisp, English accent, Thorin almost had to wonder exactly where it was that he came from because no one— _no one_ —had treated him with this much forthright sincerity in ages; the Middle Ages to be exact! And talk of humility, the man wasn’t in the least bit embarrassed to admit fault and take blame for his mistakes! How interesting! Who even does that any—

            _… at dinner tonight_

            “What?!” Thorin really needed to keep his mind from wandering; around Bilbo anyway.

            “When your sister, Lady Dis—”

            “ _My sister_?”

            “—came to see us at the hotel last night—”

            “Last night.”

            “—she said you were upset about our argument—”

            “Did she now.”

            “—which was why she invited us to dinner this evening—”

            “This evening.”

            Bilbo clearly was picking up on Thorin’s confusion. “I see,” Bilbo sounded … disappointed and swallowed thickly. “She invited us without your knowledge; didn’t she? You weren’t really upset over the argument; at least, not in the way she … she said you were.”

            Bilbo now looked shamefaced and … was that hurt Thorin saw in his eyes?! No. That wouldn’t do, now would it?

            “On the contrary,” Thorin said with a smile he hoped looked as sincere was he wanted it to be. “I have had other pressing matters on my mind of late and simply thought the dinner was in a few days, not this evening. Please forgive me.”

            “Oh,” Bilbo huffed out of relief and the bright smile returned. “So you do approve our coming to dinner?”

            “Absolutely,” Thorin said. He meant it too.

            “Well,” Bilbo’s smile got even more brilliant and Thorin was almost— _almost_ —taken aback at the image. “I’m so happy to hear that!”

            “I’m glad,” Thorin was and he couldn’t help but let his own smile grow a little.

            They stared at each other for a few long seconds more before someone cleared their throat and both of them turned to see a red-faced Ori, staring at the ceiling and lowering the hand he had just discreetly coughed into.

            They both got the hint.

            “We should be going,” Bilbo said, nodding but not moving.

            “So should we,” Thorin said, returning the nod and also not moving.

            “So,” Bilbo said, licking his lips and looking everywhere but directly at Thorin. “We’ll see you … tonight?”

            “Yes,” Thorin agreed; finding the dusty painting across the room very interesting suddenly. “Until this evening.”

            “Right.”

            “Indeed.”

            A huff startled them both. “Okay, let’s go,” Ori said, grabbing Bilbo’s arm and dragging the blond away.

            “Wait, what are you—” Bilbo protested, but the rest of the argument was out of earshot.

            Both Thorin and Dwalin just stood there, watching the other two leave; neither of them noticing Balin giving them odd looks before shaking his head and retreating back into his office. In fact, it was almost a full minute before they noticed each other.

            “Shut up,” Thorin said before Dwalin could say a word.

            “Whatever you say, milord,” Dwalin said, a smirk clearly heard in his tone.

            “I said, shut up.”

            “As you wish, your lordship.”

            “Stick it, Dwalin.”

            “Your wish is my command, sire.”

            “Fuck. You.”

 

 

 


	11. Dining Out, Eating In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and his family have a need ... to feed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my apologies for this very late update - I am hoping it won't happen again.

* * *

 

 

            “What the hell do you mean you _ran_ _into them_?”  Nori was almost … pissed-off!  Almost.

            “We didn’t … _run into them_ , per se,” Bilbo corrected, calling out from the bathroom.

            “Yeah, more like we ran into the door,” Ori stated matter-of-factly, then added contemplatively, “or it ran into us, actually.”  Ori shrugged; indifferent to the semantics and proceeded to finish dressing.  “It was only after we were on the ground, did we realize that it was Lord Durin and his second … for a _second_ time.” 

            Nori just shook his head. He had been ranting and raving about missing out on seeing Lord Durin and that guard again, but he was conflicted; he had made a killing at the casino, then proceeded to have a mind-blowing threesome with a young beauty and her sugar daddy afterwards; hard to complain about that.

            “So,” Nori turned to his brother with a predatory grin.  “Did you screw up your second chance with the bald beefcake?”

            Ori rolled his eyes, while Bilbo narrowed his gaze.

            “We talked about this,” Bilbo spat out in a whispered hissed as he walked passed Nori.  “Back off him.”

            Nori had the decency to look contrite.  Bilbo was right after all.  “Let me rephrase my question,” Nori said before being cut off.

            “Doesn’t matter,” Ori shot out, waving Nori off and looking completely and honestly unfazed. “Your question is completely irrelevant; like yourself.”

            Nori puffed up like he was going to argue but he instantly deflated.  Ori always did have a bit of an attitude but to be this blasé, this dismissive, without a fight could only mean one thing …

            “You scored,” Nori said with a smirk and was satisfied by the blush that seeped across Ori’s cheeks.

            “What’s it to you?” Ori said, once more dismissively. 

            “Nothing,” Nori countered and slipped on his suit jacket.  “Just glad to see you happy.  About time.”

            “More like _biding your time_ ,” Bilbo snarked. 

            Ori laughed at that but Nori told himself that it wasn’t necessarily true; it just wasn’t necessarily wrong either.   Of course, now that he thought about it …

            “I wonder,” Nori said quietly, “what Dis will be wearing.”

            “ _Dis_?” Ori was incredulous.

            “I believe _Lady_ Dis,” Bilbo said, buttoning his waistcoat, “will be dressing in something worth a small fortune and custom made for her.”

            “Where do you get off calling her ‘ _Dis_ ’?” Ori asked.

            “Since she told me to,” Nori answered with smug expression.

            “I believe that is called, ‘Just being polite.’” Ori pointed out.

            “Well, if that was the case,” Nori stated, reaching for his overcoat, “than I doubt she would have continued to let me call her by her first name and laugh with me.”

            “Sure she wasn’t laughing _at_ you?” Ori quipped dryly.

            “Whatever it takes, little brother,” Nori shot back and Ori genuinely laughed at that.  Nori loved Ori to pieces, he really did.  He loved when they snarked and bickered, it made him feel closer to the younger man in a way that just being soppy and sticky sweet never did; like as long as Ori threw out his one-liners, then everything was right in the world.  He hoped Ori understood that.

            There was a knock on the door which brought them all to silence.

            “Who is it?” Bilbo asked without opening it.

            “I have a message from the concierge,” said a male’s voice.  “A car waiting for you.”

            Bilbo opened the door to see a young porter standing there looking a little wide-eyed.

            “It’s one of the royal cars,” the young man added with a smile.

            “Thank you,” Bilbo said, slipping the boy a five pound note, and then turning to the others.  “If you two are ready …”

            “Lead the way,” Nori said as Ori nodded, putting on his long coat and handing Bilbo his.

            As Bilbo locked the door then stepped forward towards the lift, he felt a flutter in his stomach; he was really going to have dinner with the Lord of Erebor and something made him feel like his life was about to change completely.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            Dis exited her chambers and fussed with her new dress; it was a sleeveless red velvet gown with a sweetheart neckline but the back plunged almost to her waist.  She had debated about wearing long gloves but she hated covering her arms if she didn’t need to.

            “You look lovely, mother,” Fili said as Dis descended the stairs.

            “Thank you, darling,” Dis replied. 

            She could have easily said the same about her boys; both wore brown leather pants but Fili’s were a deep caramel color and his shirt was gold silk; it matched his hair which the older prince wore loose.  The entire ensemble gave Fili a true, leonine presence.  Kili’s pants were closer to the color of dark-chocolate and his shirt was in a deep dark green; his hair was also loose and it cascaded down and over his shoulders.  Kili looked every bit like the forest lover he was.

            “Are neither of you going to be wearing a jacket?” Dis asked.  It wasn’t that she cared actually but she knew Thorin could be a stickler over such things.

            Both princes shrugged and Kili said, “We figured that you’d want to make them feel … comfortable.”

            “Very true,” Dis answered as she stepped forward and gave each boy a kiss on their cheeks.

            “No jackets, I see,” Thorin stated with amusement from behind them.

            Dis turned and could only stare.  Like Dis, Thorin wore velvet; a long, double breasted jacket in a deep navy blue that came down to just above his knees—almost tunic-like.  Thorin’s pants were black, as was as his high collared shirt, which was buttoned to the top but no tie, and he also wore polished boots of black leather.  His hair was complete free of braids but he had pulled it all back to into a low ponytail at nap of his neck.  The whole look was simple but elegant; Dis was very impressed.

            A bit too impressed.

            “You’re dressed very nice,” Dis stated with a slightly narrowed look.  “Especially for a dinner you insisted you didn’t want to attend.”

            Thorin tilted his head; his way of a subtle shrug.  “Did you not say we were … entertaining for dinner?”

            “Yes,” Dis said, “But never stopped you before from coming still dressed in whatever clothes you were wearing while sparing with Dwalin.”

            At the mention of his name, Dwalin came into the main hall.  Dis was almost as surprised as when Thorin appeared; Dwalin was dressing in his official uniform, even down to wearing his gloves and having his gun and dagger strapped to his belt.  Further more, he had clearly trimmed his beard and freshly shaved his head so that it was smooth and gleaming.  What in the world was going on?

            Thorin picked up on his sister’s amazement, leaned over to her and said quietly, “Are you still laboring under the impression that our dinner guests are a secret?”

            Dis turned a glare onto her brother who only looked back with a smirk.  “How long have you known?”

            Thorin couldn’t hide his amusement.  “Dwalin and I had the pleasure of … running into Mister Baggins and his youngest friend while visiting Balin.”

            “I see,” Dis said, resigned that her plans were now little more than a memory.

            Thorin did laugh and planted a swift kiss on his sister’s check.  “Come, we have dinner to attend to.”

            “But,” Fili stopped them all, “they haven’t arrived yet?!”

            “Mister Baggins and his friends,” Thorin said, his eyes darkening in his seriousness, “are invited _for_ dinner, not _as_ dinner.”

            “Then where are we going?” Kili asked as Thorin began to walk away and the princes as well as Dis began to follow.

            Thorin turned around at that.  “We are having a private dinner with someone that holds the key to whatever is going on at the casino.”

            Dis was shocked.  “How did you manage that?”

            “The man made a slip and Gloin picked up on it,” Thorin stated and once again, began to head to what the others now realized was their private ‘dining room.’

            “So we’re going to … interrogate this man as we _dine_?”  Fili fully understood what was going to happen.

            “Exactly,” Thorin said, smirking to himself.  “Although I prefer the term, conversation.

            Dis laughed darkly.  “He confesses to keep his life and we feed.”

            “Again, exactly,” Thorin stated quietly.  They all knew of course that any confessions will do no good for the man in the end.

            “And what of Mister Baggins,” Dis asked coolly.

            Thorin slowed for a moment, but didn’t turn.  “He and his friends will enjoy a quiet dinner and we will join them afterwards.”

            “For desert,” Kili quipped with a snicker.

            Quick as a flash, Thorin used one large hand against Kili’s chest to pin the young prince to the wall, before whispering dangerously, “Let me make myself very clear, nephew.  While Mister Baggins is in this castle, he is not to be touched, toyed with or in any way molested by anyone.  Is that clear?  He is off-limits in every possible way.  Understand?”

            Kili knew better than to argue or joke.  “Yes, uncle.”

            Thorin released Kili and then threw over his shoulder, “And that goes for his friends as well.”  Thorin walked on, leaving the other three alone.

            Fili and Kili exchanged looks, and then glanced at their mother quickly before going after their uncle. 

            Dis slowly followed after the other three.  It had never been her intention of _dining on_ Mister Baggins or either of his friends; she had only ever wanted a fun, pleasant evening.  For all their jokes, the boys knew that as well.  But Thorin’s reaction was … intriguing.  Just _what_ exactly had transpired between her brother and the charming Mister Baggins early today, she could only guess at, but she was now looking forward to watching to two of them closely.

            It was as she contemplated Thorin, that she vaguely heard someone in the distance tell Dwalin the car had arrived and Dwalin’s footsteps receding away to greet their honored guests.

 

 

 


	12. Castle Durin

* * *

_**PREDJAMA CASTLE IN SOLVENIA - THE INSPIRATION FOR CASTLE DURIN** _

* * *

 

  While the The King’s Palace, or Uzbad Kuzrû, was a working castle, a look out – a fortress really – built strategically upon a high hill overlooking Port Dale; Castle Durin, on the other hand, was the quietly moody residence and stronghold for the Lords of Erebor.

            Situated some seventy kilometers from the capital, the castle was where the royal family lived and entertained; _privately_.  Built into an alcove of the mountain, it was about a third of the way up the slope and protected by the thick Ereborean forest.

            Deep and dark, the forest of Erebor covered a huge area of the island between the city of Port Dale – or Basnbizar as it was called in the ancient language of Erebor - and the mountain itself.  The forest also encircled the town of Zaram'itnîn, and caressed the small hamlet of Marânzudnu.

            The Castle Durin wasn’t large or grand like Buckingham Palace or the Royal Palace of Madrid.  It wasn’t simplistically elegant like the Palace of Rosenborg, or even as impressive as Uzbad Kuzrû.  But, like Uzbad Kuzrû, it was Slavic-like in look; minimalistic in style. 

            Rumor had it that behind the castle, hidden from view and dug deep into the mountain, lay vast chambers filled with gold and treasures that were so well protected, there was actually no one who could claim to have ever laid eyes on the horde.

            All Bilbo knew, or cared about, was that Castle Durin was intriguing and mysterious in a sublime way and it filled him with emotions that he could not name.

            The long drive to the castle had been passed with barely a word between the three friends.  Nori kept to his iPhone, doing God only knew what; he never let anyone look at the screen.  Ori continued his study of the Erebor History book that Bilbo had gifted him, while Bilbo quietly watched as the city gave way to fields and hills, and then copses of trees until finally they were swallowed up and traveling the thin black ribbon of road through the ever deepening forest.  He did see the signs that pointed to roads that would take one to the other towns but not the towns themselves.

            Finally, after the steep ascent up the zigzagging mountain road, the car pulled up to the entrance of the castle and they were bid to enter by two silent footmen.  The servants stood on either side of the door, like the guardians they most likely were, only nodding to the trio and urging them inside to a small receiving area. 

            They didn’t have to wait too long before someone was there to greet them.

            “Welcome to Castle Durin,” a deep baritone sounded and Bilbo, Ori and Nori all turned to see Lord Durin’s second, Dwalin, enter the waiting area.  The man wore an official uniform designating him as a Captain with the Shamâr, with gloves no less; a ceremonial dagger strapped to one hip and a gun attached to the other.  He gave Nori and Bilbo respectful bows of his head but Bilbo didn’t miss the small smile or slightly deeper bow Dwalin bestowed on Ori.

            Judging form Ori’s blush, he hadn’t missed it either.

            “Thank you,” Ori whispered, so softly Bilbo wondered if Ori had actually said it.

            But Dwalin nodded in response none the less.

            Someone _has excellent hearing,_ Bilbo thought.  _Or maybe_ someone _is just very finely tuned to Ori’s voice._

            “Know that while you are here,” Dwalin stated, “You are honored guests and if there is anything you require, need or want, but do not see, you only have to ask for it.”

            “And will you personally …” Nori smirked, “ _give it to us_?”

            Dwalin colored at the barely concealed innuendo while Bilbo almost chocked.  Ori, however, bestowed Nori with a narrowed glare and said, coolly, “I seriously doubt, Captain Dwalin would lower himself to fulfill your requests _personally_ , but, I’m sure there is a kitchen maid or stable boy that would _give you_ what you need.”

            Far from insulted, Nori just laughed.

            Bilbo did his best to hide his amusement with a cough.  “Dry throat,” Bilbo said, giving the uniformed man an apologetic look.

            Dwalin recovered quickly.  “In that case, Master Baggins, may I suggest we proceed to the dining room.”

            “I hope we haven’t kept the royal family waiting too long,” Ori said, obviously attempting to bring the conversation back to a more cordial tone.

            “On the contrary,” Dwalin said, falling into step beside the younger man, “they are dining alone.”

            That made them all stop and Ori, Nori and Bilbo all spoke at the same time.

            “Did we, indeed, arrive too late?!”

            “But I thought—”

            “We were invited for dinner, weren’t—”

            Dwalin held up a hand for silence, but bestowed Ori with a soft smile and spoke directly to him.  “You didn’t arrive late at all, and, yes, you were invited for dinner, but the Royal Family dines alone and joins their guests afterwards for … drinks and desert.  It’s traditional.”

            Bilbo and Ori sighed at the explanation and Nori just shrugged.

            Bilbo couldn’t help but comment, “As long as we haven’t committed some sort of … faux pas.”

            Dwalin actually laughed; a deep, chest rumbling laugh at that.  “Master Baggins, I don’t think you need worry about that.”

            “So you say,” Bilbo said under his breath.

            “Indeed I do,” Dwalin replied, clearly not going to even pretend he didn’t hear.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            “Are you not enjoying yourself?” Dis asked sardonically.

            Thorin fought the laugh that lay coiled in his chest but did not suppress the smirk that had long ago settled on his lips.  He sat in the throne-like chair at the head of the table in their private ‘dining room’ while Dis perched elegantly, almost side-saddle, on the arm next to him.  Fili and Kili, on the other hand, had taken chairs on either side of the table just a seat away from their ‘guest’ who sat at the other end from Thorin. 

            Thorin’s chair had been placed so that the fire was behind him, and the candlelight in the room was not bright enough to cast it’s illumination over his visage; his face was shrouded in shadowy darkness.  It was both strategic and intimidating; their guest had no way or reading Thorin’s expression.  Thorin, Dis and the boys had little need for more light, they saw in almost complete darkness, but their guest did not; the dim, wavering light would do nothing to expel the apprehension of the man, only amplifying it further. 

            The ‘invited one’ was a Mister Ethan Bailey; American.  However, neither Thorin nor Dis believed that to be his true name; at least, the man hadn’t given up anything close to what they believed to be the truth yet.  He said he was only here to ‘on vacation’ and therefore had no knowledge of anything nefarious at the casino.  Yet he had been seen and overheard talking to the other two men; a German, Hans Von Ruten and a Frenchman, Jean-Thomas Leroux.  All three had been observed, directly and discreetly, monitoring croupiers, casing tables, monitoring games and eventually winning a small fortune, to the tune of two-hundred thousand Ereborean Kaduz, or the equivalent of two-hundred and seventy-five thousand Euros.

            “I still don’t know why I was invited here,” Bailey said, attempting to sound calm and controlled; to any normal human being, he would have.  However, the royals in the room were not normal humans – they weren’t human period – they easily sensed the tension and fear the man exuded.  They could almost hear the pounding of the man’s heart and Thorin, had he been asked, would’ve sworn he could smell the guy’s blood as it rushed through the vessels of their guest. 

            Delicious really.

            Dis stood slowly and walked to the center of the table; pouring her a glass of deep, red wine.  In the crepuscular room, Thorin was sure the wine looked like blood.  Again, Thorin’s laugh threatened escape.

            “Now,” Dis said, after a languorous sip from her glass, “are you going to stop playing these games, or must we force your confession?”

            “Even if there was something to confess,” Bailey said, forcing himself to sound insulted, “there is no way you can force me to say anything.”

            “Isn’t there?” Dis stated with a mock look of surprise.

            Bailey opened his mouth as if to reply ‘No’, yet it died when he saw the two princes were not smiling as Dis was; Thorin unmoving, his face still in full shadow.

            But as much ‘fun’ as they were all having, Thorin had other delights waiting for him in the castle, and he was growing tired of the delay in joining his true desire.

            “You know perfectly well why you are here,” Thorin commented; he voice deep like the mountain’s root.  “And you will give us the answers we seek.”

            “I don’t know anything!” Bailey spat out.  A single bead of sweat that slowly rolled down the side of the man’s face; his panic had reached a fever pitch and the fun was over - end game.

            “Then perhaps,” Dis said softly, stalking slowly towards the man, “our boys can loosen your memory.”

            Moving so fast she seemed a blur, Dis latched upon the man’s wrists with an iron-like grip and held him in place as Fili and Kili bestowed Bailey with feral smiles; opening their mouths as their fangs extended.

            The guy’s screams resounded off the stone walls and Thorin finally unleashed his laugh.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            As they were led through the castle, Bilbo had to admire the fact that it was not huge, nor intimidating.  Oh yes, the main hall was two stories tall, with a side staircase lined with armor and tapestries; a huge black iron chandelier hanging in the center of the hall, but really, the scale didn’t seem unpleasant or off putting.

            There didn’t seem to be any electric lights; only candles.  Some were huge and as big around as Bilbo’s thighs – the ones in the chandelier looked massive – while others were small and delicate.  Almost all were placed on every available surface and in holders that looked as if made from various metals; silver, gold, iron, pewter.  Why there were some holders made of fine, clear glass.

            They all had their own reaction to the place.  Dwalin was naturally at home here and moved forward as one that was accustomed to such surroundings.  Nori cast appraising eyes over everything – appraising the monetary worth, Bilbo had no doubt.  Ori was clearly overwhelmed and slowly spun around a few times as he tried to take it all in; Dwalin gently catching Ori when the younger man almost spun himself into a full set of armor.

            But as atmospheric as the castle was, Bilbo felt calm and thought the castle was of … _human_ proportions; instead of being made to feel small and insignificant, he merely felt as if he’d stepped back in time.  Way back.  But comfortable none the less.

            “Here we are,” Dwalin said, as he swung open two large oaken doors. 

 

_**MEDIEVAL DINING ROOM - inspiration for Castle Durin's** _

 

            The room was long and narrow, a scenic fresco on one wall while on the opposite wall were built in cabinets with glass doors; housing a plethora of china, silver and accessories for every type of meal conceivable.  At the far end of the room was a beautiful lead glass window and Bilbo had no doubt, if his sense of direction was correct, that one could probably see the lights of Port Dale from it’s view. 

            In the center of the room was a slim table with eight chairs around it and the place settings of china and flatware were beautiful, but it was were they were placed that seemed odd to Bilbo.  Rather than being evenly spaced around the table; two place settings, side by side, were to the right of what he assumed was the ‘head’ of the table, while on the left side, the place settings were situated so that there was a space between them.  All the other places were left empty.

            “If you’d like to take your seats,” Dwalin said, firmly.

            That was when Bilbo noticed the place cards.  He was seated to the left of head of the table, while Dwalin was across from him, to the right of the head.  Ori’s place was next to Dwalin, and Nori was to sit on Bilbo’s side of the table; with the chair between them.  It seemed an odd arrangement but Bilbo thought it rude to complain or question it; Nori didn’t seem to care and Ori most certainly showed no signs of discomfort; not when he was placed right next to Dwalin.

            “Master Baggins,” Dwalin said, capturing Bilbo’s attention as the burly man reached for a large decanter on a side table.  “You mentioned a dry throat; would you care for glass of wine?”

            “Yes, thank you,” Bilbo replied.

            “Would anyone else care for wine?” Dwalin asked, looked at the two guests.

            “Sure,” Nori said and Ori merely nodded with a smile.

            Bilbo may have been asked initially, but it was Ori that got the first glass poured.  Nori and Bilbo shared a side glance but, to Bilbo’s relief, Nori said nothing.

            From that point on, the evening progressed rapidly.  They made small talk, Dwalin giving minor details about the castle and, in particular, the dinning room they were now sitting in; the fresco actually told the mythical origins of the island and its people.  Dinner was delicious; light chowder made with native fish for the first course, then salad of native greens accompanied by fresh bread and butter, while the entrée was native venison with organically grown root vegetables.  So delightful was the meal, so congenial was the conversation, that Bilbo had totally forgotten the passage of time, until the table was cleared completely, the servants bringing in the trays loaded with pots of coffee and tea, various deserts and, of course, more bottles of wine. 

            It was then that the doors opened and Bilbo forgot everything else as Lord Durin, Lady Dis and, who he could only assume were the two young princes, walked in to join them.

            “Welcome to Castle Durin, Master Baggins,” Thorin said with a slight bow and gracing Bilbo with a smoldering look that seemed to strip Bilbo bare.

            Not that Bilbo would complain about that.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Khuz-dul Translations**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Basnbizar - Dale  
> Zaram'itnîn - Lake Town  
> Marânzudnu - Dorwinion  
> Kadzu - Gold Coin of (singular)  
> Kaduz - Gold Coin of (plural)  
> Shamâr - Guard


	13. The Glass of Life

* * *

 

 

            Once the customary greetings and introductions were complete, Lord Durin took his place at the table’s head chair, to Bilbo’s right. On Thorin’s right was Dwalin, then Ori on Dwalin’s other side.  Kili said next Ori, while Dis took the opposite end of the table from Thorin. Nori sat to Dis’ right, followed by Fili and then back to Bilbo.  It had a nice mix of the two parties and proved excellent for conversation.

             “So tell me, Master Baggins,” Thorin said, reaching for his coffee cup and taking a quick drink. “Have you found the castle to your liking?”

            “Oh, yes!” Bilbo said, after quickly swallowing a piece of cake that was, without a doubt, the most delicious he had ever had.  “I think it’s quite wonderful.”

            “That’s a first!”  Kili said, chuckle.

             “Agreed!” Fili added, setting down his wine glass. “I don’t think that’s a comment we hear about this place … ever!”

             “Excuse me,” Dis said with a playful smirk, “But I think the castle is lovely.”

            “I have to agree, Lady Dis,” Ori said quietly.  “The castle may be … Spartan in décor, but I think that’s exactly what gives it its uniqueness.”

            Nori snorted out a laugh.  “Put enough gold and silver about and a jail cell would be beautiful.”

            Dis laughed, but Dwalin said, “Steal enough gold and silver and a jail cell is about all you will get.”

            Nori just shrugged.  “What is life without risk?”

            “Peaceful and quiet,” Ori quipped.

            “Boring more like it,” Nori said.  “Life is too short to sit and do nothing.”

            “Life is too short to waste it!”  Ori threw out.

            “What do you know of life behind your books?”  Nori countered with a smirk.

            “More than you do from a jail cell,” Ori snarked with a raised eyebrow.

            “Gentlemen,” Bilbo said quietly, evenly, but with the barest hint of disapproval. Both Ryland brothers instantly backed down and took sips of their drinks.

            Dis gave her brother a pointed look and a small smile, which he returned. “I guess we now know who’s the leader of their little group.”

            “Indeed,” Thorin said, take another drink of his coffee.

            “I … I wouldn’t say that,” Bilbo stated, blushing a bit to his ears. “It’s just …”

            “A subtle threat?” Dwalin joked dryly, taking a huge bite of his own desert.

            Everyone laughed, while both Bilbo and Ori blushed; Bilbo from slight embarrassment and Ori because – well, because it was Dwalin being funny.

            “Bilbo can be quite scary in his own way,” Nori said when the laughter died down.

            “Don’t I know it,” Thorin stated, giving Bilbo a wink when it looked like the smaller man was about to apologize; he had been forgiven.

            “It’s not so much being in charge,” Bilbo shook his head. “It’s just that … we can all forget ourselves sometimes and need to be reminded of the company we are in. As Ori said, life is too short to be wasted, and so is this evening.”

            “And what is your view on life?” Thorin asked Bilbo with a soft gaze.

            Bilbo took a quick breath and released it, becoming a little lost in his thoughts.  “Life can be … unpreparedly short,” Bilbo said, almost distracted.  “So life should be enjoyed, in all its many facets … least we forget what is important.”

            “I’m with Bilbo!” Kili said.  “Live life to the fullest!”

            “I’ll drink to that brother!”  Fili commented.  Both of the princes laughed and clinked their glasses together, making their mother laugh and their uncle just chuckle.

            “However, Ori’s got a point,” Dwalin cut in.  “Life is too precious to be thrown away.”

            “Thank you,” Ori said smiling demurely and pressing his knee to the burly guard’s under the table.

            Nori laughed.  “Bilbo and Ori, just emphasizes the very differences in life’s outlook.”

            “So, beyond not wasting it,” Dis said, looking at Nori with a smile. “How do you see life?”

            “Well … it's easier for me to show you,” Nori said, reaching for a decanter of red wine, pouring himself a glass, and stopping at the halfway point.   “Some people would look at this glass and tell you it’s half-full—”

            “That’s right,” Bilbo said with a smile, and pointing with his fork.

            “—others would tell you that it’s half-empty.”

            “Because it is,” Ori stated.

            “But the glass’ state of emptiness is … ‘past-tense,’” Bilbo insisted, “so it’s half-full.”

            “No, it’s emptiness is it’s primary state of being, therefore, until it’s completely full, it’s still half-empty,” Ori replied.

            “And there go the arguments for the usually sides,” Nori said, giving Dis a pointed look.  “For me, however, I see it as just … half a glass.  It is neither full nor empty, it just is.”

            “That’s rather Zen,” Dis, said with a small smile but not looking as if she disagreed.  “What is … is.”

            “I agree with Ori,” Dwalin said seriously, sitting up straighter. “The glass, like life, starts as a state of emptiness, we must fill completely to gain it’s full potential.”

            “Thank you!” Ori said empathically, obviously happy someone understood him.

            “No, I disagree,” Thorin said, and then turned to Ori, “respectfully of course. Yes, our lives are born into a state of ignorance and are … empty, to the world around us, but even if we fill it with a little, our emptiness is no more and should we not rejoice in what we have been given?”

            “Well, said,” Bilbo added, gracing Thorin with a brilliant smile, which in turn earned him a wink from the Lord and master of the castle.

            “That’s rich coming from you,” Dis quipped to her brother.

            “Let’s just say,” Thorin replied, “That I have recently learned to see things differently.”

            Neither sibling comment on what exactly had changed Thorin’s point of view; there was no need to when it was sitting right next him.

            “Oh, who cares about all that,” Fili said, breaking the rather glooming atmosphere and picking up Nori’s half glass of wine.  “The glass of life should be drunk from—” he took a deep gulp of the deep red liquid, “—and then shared.” Fili held out the glass for his brother, who gladly took it.

            “And if it’s found empty,” Kili said, draining the glass completely before placing it back on the table, “One should just fill it up again!”

            Both princes laughed riotously at their little joke causing their mother to release a musical like laugh in response, which in turn was joined by Nori’s good-natured chuckle.  Thorin and Bilbo shared an amused look between them before shaking their heads fondly at the ridiculous boys, while Ori and Dwalin on the other hand were clearly less than amused.

            Thorin stood slowly and garnered everyone’s attention.  “On that note,” Thorin said, straightening out his jacket. “Perhaps we should take this opportunity to fill the glass of life a bit more.”  He turned to Bilbo and held out a hand.  “Would you care for a more … in-depth tour of the castle?”

            Bilbo was a little taken-aback but recovered quickly.  “I’d love one!”  He took Thorin’s hand and was glad to let the handsome Lord help him to his feet.

            “I think that is an excellent idea,” Dis said, standing herself and turning to Nori. “Would you care to see more that the castle has to offer Mister Ryland?”

            “I am totally at your disposal, Lady Dis,” Nori said smoothly.

            “I’ll remember that,” Dis whispered, just loud enough for Nori to hear.

            “I need to stick with Lord Durin,” Dwalin whispered to Ori.

            “Oh, right,” Ori said with a smile that didn’t quite hide his disappointment. “Of course you do.”

            “We’ll be glad to show Ori around,” Kili said, getting to his feet. “Won’t we brother?”

            “Naturally,” Fili said with a smile and then both turned to the younger Ryland brother.

            “Just remember what your uncle said,” Dwalin growled out and both brothers nodded.

            Thorin and Bilbo were already out of the dining hall and Dwalin, reluctantly, made to follow; throwing Ori a few looks before moving out of sight. Dis and Nori seemed deep in conversation and were oblivious to their surroundings already and they too exited the dining room, but went off in the opposite direction of Thorin, Bilbo and Dwalin.

            Ori felt a little abandoned.

            “Don’t worry, Ori,” Kili said, gently helping the young man to his feet. “We’ll take very good care of you, won’t we Fili?”

            “You’re in good hands, Ori,” Fili said.

            Both brothers flanked Ori on either side, and if he was to be honest, Ori felt that while he was indeed in the hands of the two princes, he couldn’t swear that was a good thing.

 

 

 


	14. Trust Me

* * *

 

 

            “And these were your ancestor’s?!”  Bilbo asked incredulously, looking at Thorin before turning back to the suits of armor.

            Thorin hesitated for a few moments.  “Yes. I decid … I meant, the _family_ _decided_ to preserve them as they were; without repairing them.”

            They had walked to the upper floors and deep into the private, personal areas of the castle.  Here, Thorin showed Bilbo artifacts – from ancient pottery and figurines to weapons and other forged objects – that the general public, and in fact the world, had never seen.

            A few times, Thorin heard Dwalin clear his throat when Thorin discussed or explained something that many of ‘the family’ would have been appalled, if not out-right shocked, that Thorin was so boldly divulging the secrets of. 

           But to Thorin, it felt right. He had no shame in giving such an intimate tour to an outsider and to Bilbo in particular.  Something within him wanted to share, wanted to give, wanted to lay bare his life to this strangely comforting, intelligent being.  It warmed him in ways that alcohol, fire, or even warm, fresh blood had never done.

            Of course, there were things that Thorin could not deny were difficult to examine, both physically and emotionally.   At that moment, they were standing in front of four suits of armor, dented and with cleaves scattered over them, stained brown now from the centuries of unremoved blood.  All that remained of his  family from that battle, over a thousand years ago.

            “They were left as is to honor your kin?”

            “Correct.”

            “Ori mentioned to me that the invader’s name was lost to history,” Bilbo said, looking over the armor suits.  “Is that true?”

            This was one truth he could not bring himself to tell. “You were told correctly, Master Baggins,” Thorin lied.  “His name has been lost to the centuries.”  _Smaug, the terrible, the greatest calamity of our family and my life._ “But, even if his name were known, we would do all in our power to bury it with his corpse.” _And we have done all we can to see that happen._

            “So, you would withhold his name even if you did know it?” Bilbo asked quietly.

            Thorin was almost a little annoyed.  “Did I not just say—”

            “So are you doing it now then?”

            Thorin stilled.  “Doing what?” But he reminded himself that Bilbo was no fool.

            “Protecting your family,” Bilbo said, turning to Thorin.  “Making sure that it is they who are honored and remembered, not the invader?”

            _Clever.  So very clever,_ Thorin thought but he did not answer, keeping his expression calm and unreadable. However, the sympathetic look that filled Bilbo’s eyes and expression said that Thorin’s efforts were in vain; Bilbo knew.

            Bilbo placed a gentle hand on Thorin’s shoulder, just for a moment and then it was withdrawn, yet the gesture spoke volumes to Thorin; he need not explain. “And who’s armor were these then?” Bilbo asked, turning back to the display.

            “This one,” Thorin said, gesturing to one covered in gold-leaf, “was the suit worn by the High Chieftain of Erebor.”  _My grandfather_.  The suit showed a deep cut that almost severed the gorget from the suit. “He was beheaded by the leader of the invading forces.”

            Bilbo shuttered.  “How awful,” he whispered.

            “I’m sorry,” Thorin said.  “I didn’t mean to upset you.  If you wish to leave—”

            “No! No,” Bilbo insisted.  “I didn’t mean it that way, I just meant, that it’s such an awful way to die. No one deserves such a fate.”

             Bilbo missed the tender smile Thorin bestowed on him.

             “This one,” Thorin said, motioning to the next suit covered in silver and runes, “was the chieftain’s heir-apparent, his only son.”  _My father._ Thorin’s father, Thrain, had been pierced by spears, but continued to fight to the bitter end, the helm showed where Smaug’s sword had struck Thrain’s face; destroying Thrain’s left eye and ultimately leading to his death.  “This third one,” Thorin indicated a smaller suit which showed a deep cut from the right shoulder across the chest and almost to the left waist; a mortal blow.  “Was worn by the chieftain’s youngest grandson.” _My beloved brother, Frerin._

            Bilbo shook his head.  “I hope he died quickly and without pain.”

            _We all do,_ Thorin mused, nodding without answering aloud.

            “What about this last one?” Bilbo said, stepping over to the last suit that was apart from the others and separated by a sword and shield that also bore the marks of battle.

            Thorin was quiet for a minute.  “That was worn by the surviving grandson of the Lord of Erebor.” _I haven’t worn it since the day they took it off me, the day I used to wish I had died in it along with my brethren._

            “Oh, I see,” Bilbo said, gazing upon the armor with an almost worshipfulness in his eyes.  “Ori told me about him on the boat trip here.”

            “Truly,” Thorin commented quietly.  “And what did Ori tell you.”

            “Only that the eldest grandson was the eldest survivor of the battle,” Bilbo replied.  “And that it was he that had gone on to win the fight and continue the family line.”

            _Not quite,_ Thorin thought.

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

             After showing Bilbo the family armor and personal objects, there was really only one other place left that was more personal. In fact, it was so secret; no living soul outside the family had ever seen it.

            Throughout their tour, he had been very good; Thorin had kept his hands clasped firmly behind his back.  Occasionally he would lay a hand on the small of Bilbo’s back but only to guide the smaller man in the right direction; he made sure to put his hand back quickly.

             It wasn’t that he didn’t want to touch Bilbo; quite the opposite.  Thorin just knew that one lingering touch would led to more and then, eventually, Bilbo would end up in Thorin’s arms.  Again, not that he wouldn’t like that, and he was sure that Bilbo would succumb freely – he could smell the subtle scent of Bilbo’s desire like the delicate fragrance of an orchid – but there was danger there.   The aroma of Bilbo’s want, accompanied by the scent of Bilbo’s being, mingled with the intoxicating perfume of Bilbo’s blood, would drive Thorin mad were he to gather Bilbo to him.

            No. Best to keep a safe distance and keep his hands to himself.

            “Bilbo,” Thorin said, once more lying a gently hand on Bilbo’s lower back to indicate the way to go.

            They had come to the entrance of what looked like a long, narrow hallway, just wide enough for two people to walk abreast.  Only the first three metres or so of the passageway were illuminated and those were done so by the candles behind them.  The end of the passageway, for it couldn’t really be called a corridor, was in total, complete darkness.

            “Where does this lead to?” Bilbo whispered softly, hesitantly. 

            Thorin knew that it looked intimidating; it was designed that way. “You must have noticed,” Thorin said in a low voice.   “That the castle is build within a recess of the mountain.”

            “Yes,” Bilbo said, his eyes fixed on the darkness ahead.

            “This leads deep into the mountain itself,” Thorin explained. “To a place that—”

            “To a place only the family gazes upon,” Dwalin said, behind them.

            Thorin turned and looked at his second.  “A place that the Lord of Erebor may show anyone if he so chooses.”

            It was a subtle threat, but a threat nonetheless.  Dwalin got it.  He bowed his head and took a step back.

            “You know, Dwalin,” Thorin said, firmly.  “You have no need to follow me about.”

            “It is my duty to—”

            “Master Baggins is in no way a danger to me," Thorin insisted.  Dwain gave Thorin a silent but clear look that said that it wasn’t Thorin being in danger of Bilbo.  “I assure you, there is nothing for you to fear,” Thorin wore a small smile.  “Both of us will be quite safe in the company of the other.” Dwalin raised an eyebrow but he relaxed; Thorin was nothing if not a master of control.  “Why don’t you go find your _own guest_ to guide around the castle?”

            Another subtle hint, but once again, Dwalin got it too.  “As you wish, my Lord,” Dwalin stated with a bow and turned to go.

            “Oh, and Dwalin?” Thorin said, wearing a smug smile as Dwalin looked back. “Do try and enjoy yourself, won’t you?”

            Dwalin would have told Thorin to ‘ _mahibrif-mefsu’_ , but even though Bilbo could not understand ancient Khuz-dul, it seemed wrong to tell Thorin to fuck himself while Bilbo stood nearby, so he decided to simply return the jab. “And you as well, my lord,” Dwalin stated sycophantically and left.

            “What did all that mean?”  Bilbo asked, confused.

            “Only that Dwalin does not enjoy himself enough,” Thorin answered vaguely. “Come, I want to show you something.”

            “Are you … sure?” Bilbo asked, once again staring into the dark, silent hallway.

            Thorin retrieved an unlit torch that Bilbo had failed to notice, and lit it with a nearby candle.  As Thorin held the torch aloft with one hand, he gently urged Bilbo ahead of him with the other, whispering, “Trust me.”

 

 

 


	15. Seduction and Fear

* * *

 

        

            “Have you enjoyed yourself this evening,” Dis asked as she walked alongside Nori.

            “I’m not bored,” Nori quipped with a cocky smile.

            “I have a feeling,” Dis said, “that coming from you, that is a great compliment.”

            “I don’t know if I would say that—”

            “I would.”

            “—but I can honestly say that boredom is my one great fear.”

            “Fear?” Dis released a soft laugh. “You have a fear?”

            “Don’t we all?”

            “No.”

            “You don’t fear?”

            “Not normally,” Dis said evenly.  “And, in fact, not for a very very long time.”

            They walked along upper corridors of the castle.  Unbeknownst to either of them, Dis had taken Nori on a similar tour of the castle that Thorin had taken Bilbo; the private areas. However, while Thorin had shown Bilbo the historic side of the castle, Dis was sure Nori wanted to see the wealth of the Durins.

             She was not mistaken.

            Everything that Nori could have ever hoped to have within his grasp was there; right in front of him.  Objects, both great and small, inlaid with gems and jewels, and/or gilded, or wrought of gold, silver, platinum and even –

            “Is that palladium?!”  Nori was truly stunned. They were looking at a large ornate sculpture.  It was egg shaped, covered in white enamel, white diamonds and with gild here and there of the precious metal.  It was mounted on a small pedestal, also in white enamel, diamonds and gilded with palladium. It looked like ... “Is it Faberge?!”

            “Yes,” Dis said casually.  “It was a gift from the Czar Alexander III, when he visited for the first time in eighteen-eight-nine.   He and his son, Czar Nicholas II, gave us these when they came to Erebor.

            Nori turned and almost became lightheaded; there were a total of seven eggs, including the palladium one.  “Wow. They sure didn’t mess about did they?” What amazed Nori most was that the eggs were displayed out in the open!  Anyone could have just reached out and –

            “Not wise, Mister Ryland,” Dis said, quickly grabbing Nori’s wrist, stopping him, as he had unconsciously reached out for a lovely pink enameled egg with rubies; it was wondrously pocket sized.

            “Sorry,” Nori shook himself.

            Dis just laughed.  “You certainly wouldn’t be the first to be … taken with them.”

            “As anyone ever tried to …” Nori made a gesture that included slipping an imaginary egg into his pocket.

            Dis smiled.  “Not if they value their life.”

            Nori nodded; he got the hint.

            “Don’t be too disappointed, Mister Ryland,” Dis said, slipping a slender arm through one of his.  “There are other, far more valuable things in the castle to see.”

            Nori looked down at their linked arms; he wasn’t fooled. But then, he was pretty damn sure that Lady Dis was in no way trying to hide.

            “I’d love to see anything you have to show me,” Nori said softly with a steady gaze.

            Dis smiled slyly.  “Then, in that case, why don’t we go make ourselves more comfortable.”

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            “Have you taken leave of your senses!” Fili whispered low. Too low for a mere-mortal to hear; and said mere-mortal was standing on the other side of the room.

            “No,” Kili whispering back, thinking about the question. “I don’t think so.”

            “Then let me remind you,” Fili hissed back.  “Ori is off limits!  I mean, a bit of fun is one thing, but Uncle said our guests were not to be touched, toyed with or molested!”

            “Look at this way,” Kili said with a devious smirk.  “Toying makes it sound like we’d be using or tricking Ori, when you know we’d be sincere—”

            “That’s not what he meant.”

            “—and molesting sounds so … vile and abhorrent, while we’d the epitome of gentlemen—”

            “You’re splitting hairs.”

            “—and touched … well we have already touched him—”

            “We put our arms around his shoulders.  That isn’t what Uncle meant.”

            “Precisely right, brother.  I’m sure Uncle meant it in a more … unsavory way, and you know we would never do anything so … loathsome.”

            Fili closed his eyes and shook his head.  Every fiber of his being was telling him to stop this and just take Ori back to the dining room and wait there for the others.

            But he couldn’t completely block Kili’s seductive reasoning out of his heart.

            He didn’t want to when it came down to it.

            Ori was unique.  Most of their past ‘guests’ had some darkness within them, some part of them that was corrupted. That is what made their blood so delicious in both taste and experience.  A few had been lackeys, poor young men caught up in the criminal underworld, but they still had that dark within. 

             Of their current guests, Nori was the closest to their normal prey, but they already knew that Mother had taken him for her own.   Bilbo was closest to Ori, but there was something about him that neither prince could put a finger our; not that it mattered, Thorin had claim to Bilbo, pure and simple.

            But Ori.  Now there was pure innocence. And strangely, that purity added something intoxicating, alluring, oh so very tempting, that the two princes were simply powerless to resist.

            “All right,” Fili said, giving his brother a crocked smile. “But just a taste.”

            “Of course,” Kili said innocently with a not so innocent smile. “Just a wee drop or two.”

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            The dining room was empty.  Not that Dwalin had any delusion that the two princes would stay put to entertain Ori.

            That worried him. 

            He knew he should never have left Ori behind.  He should have taken the lad with him.  But then, he didn’t think Thorin would have appreciated a troupe of people following him about.  And of course Dwalin couldn’t have left Thorin alone with Bilbo.

            _Fuck._  

            It was intolerable either way.

            He moved to the center of the Great Hall and closed his eyes. He didn’t have the skill and gifts that Thorin and Dis possessed.  Hell, he wasn’t even as good as the boys were; naturally.  But he had some abilities.

            Drawing a deep breath, he let his mind focus on one thing; Ori’s face. Slowly releasing his breath, he let his mind reach out.

            _Where the devil are you?_

            His mind swept the upper rooms and moved down.

            _Not in either of the boys rooms. Where, though?_

            At the same time he found him, he remembered something Nori had said. _‘_ _What do you know of life behind your books’_

The Library.

            However, it was when he pulled back his mind, that he felt it.

            Fear.

            Ori’s Fear.

            As he quickly made for the library, Dwalin truly wished he had Thorin’s speed.

 

 

 


	16. Gothic Horror

* * *

 

            

            When the princes first suggested a tour, Ori worried; he hadn't wanted to follow either Bilbo or Nori; that would have been _beyond_ weird.

            Kili and Fili kept up a continuous stream of talking, each taking up where the other left off, speaking over and with the other so that it was like listening to one individual speaking through two people.  Ori turned his head from side to side, trying to follow the flow of words and jokes; it made him dizzy. 

            At some point, however, he realized that he had been so dazzled, that he couldn’t say where they were in the castle or what turns and hallways they had taken to get there.  If he'd had to go back, he’d never find his way alone.

            But when they approached the end of one hall he became more than a bit apprehensive.  Just what lay behind the two massive doors?  Where exactly had they taken him?  Each prince took the handle of one of the doors, swinging them open in rather dramatic fashion.

            Ori almost couldn’t breath.

            The library, or Mukbu the princes called it, was a long two story rectangular room with a floor-to-ceiling stained glass window at the far end, opposite the doors.   The bookcases were floor to ceiling on both levels and there were spiral staircases on either side of the stained glass window that allowed access to the level above. Two round tables, with elegant high backs, graced the center of the room.

            The princes gave him space and allowed Ori to just explore. Book on history, science, art, literature were everywhere.  Full collections of well-known authors could found easily; Shakespeare, Austen, the Brontes, Gaskell, Eliot, Byron, Shelley, Dickinson, were there for the sampling. There seemed to be a large collection of Gothic novels and works; Le Fanu, Polidori, Stoker, and even modern novels by Anne Rice.

            “Do you like the library?” Kili asked quietly as he navigated the room.

            “Oh my goodness, yes!” Ori said, with a grin, looking at a second printing of Poe’s poems and reading _Tamerlane._

            “Are books your passion?” Fili asked as he slowly crossed the space.

            “One could say that,” Ori replied, almost engrossed in reading. “I work for The National Archives.”

            “So you like history,” Kili stated, steadily closing the distance between them.

            “I have a degree in history,” Ori said, turning the page and scanning Poe’s _The Raven_ , his favorite poem.

            “Doesn’t sound like you have a great deal of time for fun, though,” Fili said, ghosting a hand over one of the tables as he stalked the room.

            “I love my work,” Ori said, not looking up.  “And Bilbo and I hung out a lot.”

            “I think Fee was talking about late night fun,” Kili supplied, finally coming to look over Ori’s left shoulder.

            Ori startled at the sudden appearance of the dark-haired prince behind him and snapped his head to the other side as Fili came up on Ori’s right. The book in Ori’s hand was quite forgotten in the close proximity of the Durin princes, and, in fact, he didn’t even notice Kili taking the book and placing it aside.

            “Is that a touchy subject for you?” Fili asked, placing a hand on Ori’s shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.

            “Ah … ah, no,” Ori stuttered.

            “I’ll bet you, Fee,” Kili said, tracing a finger down Ori’s spine. “Ori has a line of men at his door.”

            Ori blushed under the stares of the princes.  “No, not … not really.”

            “Because of Nori?” Fili said, letting his hand glide down the back of Ori’s arm.

            Ori only nodded.  He was having trouble breathing and his heart had begun to beat harder.  “He’s always …” Ori was getting a bit dizzy. “… always found a way to … to get rid of guys that … that like me.”

            “He’s not here now,” Kili whispered, running a hand over Ori’s forearm.

            “And we like you,” Fili said, taking Ori’s right hand in both of his and sketching his fingers and over the tender, smooth flesh of Ori’s palm.

            “Indeed we do,” Kili stated, now taking Ori’s left hand and doing the same as Fili had done with the right, only pushing back Ori’s sleeve to expose the pale skin and pulsating veins of Ori’s wrist.

            Ori could barely stand, he felt his knees going a bit weak.   Abruptly, Ori felt Fili plant a kiss onto the palm of his right hand, making him trembled, while at the same moment, Kili ran his tongue over his left wrist.

            Ori jerked; had Kili just _nipped_ him?

            “Sorry,” Kili whispered, looking up at Ori from under his lashes, and giving the ginger-haired man a wicked smile. 

            But in that smile there was a gleam and Ori caught sight something unexpected; the flash of white fangs.

            Ori’s scream died in his throat as both princes gripped Ori in their steel-strong hands and held him in place.

            “It hurts less if you don’t struggle,” Fili whispered in Ori’s ear as he slowly bent Ori’s head to one side and dragged his tongue and teeth languorously over the side of Ori’s neck.

            Ori could only watch, terrified, his heart pounding in his ears, fear filling him, begging for someone to save him, as Kili, baring his fangs, brought Ori’s wrist to his mouth and Fili’s teeth raked over his neck with slowly increasing pressure.

            A deep voice made them all freeze.

            “Mind if I cut in?” Dwalin said from the doorway and grabbing the attention of the others; his gun held steadily in an outstretched arm.

            “You don’t really expect us to believe you’d shoot us, Dwalin,” Kili said, not moving, Ori’s wrist still only millimeters from his mouth.

            Dwalin cocked the hammer of his Colt M1911; smiling dangerously at the princes. “You want to test that belief, laddie?”

            Kili and Fili were too close to their prey to give up so easily and they released low, feral growls; Ori whimpered.

            The arrival of their Mother and Nori from behind Dwalin, plus Dis’ seething look, gave them true pause.  But only as the hidden door to the room opened slowly, revealing Thorin and Bilbo, did the boys finally release Ori from their grip. Dwalin motioned with his free hand and Ori moved quickly to the burly man’s side.

            As if Dwalin’s threat and their mother’s anger were not enough, their Uncle’s darkened, furious expression finally caused the princes to feel fear themselves.

 

 

 


	17. The Consequence of Truth

* * *

 

 

            “Bilbo,” Thorin said quietly, his eyes never leaving his nephews. “Would you and your friends please step out of the room for a moment?”

            There was silence for long seconds before Bilbo asked, “And what would you do to me if I choose to stay?”

            Thorin stilled.  It wasn’t so much that Bilbo had asked the question, or that he was gently defying Thorin’s request; it was the soft tone of – what?  Hurt? Anger?  No fear; there was the tiniest bit of fear in Bilbo’s voice.

            That more than anything hurt Thorin.  But he didn’t want to fight with Bilbo; no far from it. “If you want to stay—”

            “I _wish_ to stay,” Bilbo interjected.

            _With you_ , went unsaid by Bilbo, but Thorin felt it nonetheless; that helped.  Thorin nodded, still refusing to take his eyes off his nephews, so that Bilbo knew he would not eject him from the room.  “You two,” Thorin growled at Kili and Fili, “Don’t.  Move.”

            He didn’t wait for any answer or sign of capitulation, it should have been obvious to the princes that they were to obey at all costs. Thorin turned and walked over to Ori, still tucked into Dwalin’s side, who continued to tremble.  Ori was too pale for Thorin’s liking. 

            “I want to fucking know what those two—” Nori started. Thorin held up a hand; that along with the dark look on Thorin’s face seemed to be enough to silence the older Ryland brother.  For the time being at least

            Thorin looked at Dis and she knew what had to be done.  Thorin gently cupped Ori’s chin and turned the young man’s head from side to side, inspecting his neck; not so much as bruising to be seen. No bite marks at any rate. Dis, meanwhile, took each of Ori’s hands and examined his wrists for further signs of – _bloodletting_ , as it was, or as Dis joked now and then, _oral phlebotomy_.   Except for a small bruise where it looked as if Kili had nipped Ori, there were no puncture holes.

            Ori was untouched.

            “Ori,” Thorin whispered loudly, completely capturing the young man’s attention. “Please accept our sincerest apologies for what happened; it was not tonight’s intention.”

            “And what the fuck did happen?”  Nori demanded.

            “Dis will explain that to you, later,” Thorin said.

            “No. Not later, I want to know right now, what hap—”

            “Nori,” Dis said, turning Nori’s head so as to gaze into his eyes. “I will explain it to you; be patient.”

            Of all of them, Dis was the most skilled in what they originally called, _‘_ _balakhâl’_ , or _‘he/she who is an overpowerer.’_ As the centuries passed, they came to call it, _‘Allure’_ or _‘Allurement.’_ But as their kind passed into fiction and the world romanticized them, Dis’ ability was finally named _‘Glamour.’_ Either way, regardless of its title, Dis had easy sway over those she turned her focus on.

            Nori deflated under Dis’ regard and he relaxed, gave in and only nodded in agreement.

            “Ori,” Thorin continued.  “Stick with Dwalin.  He will protect you.”

            Thorin turned to his second. “Keep him close; keep him safe. He’s your only concern for the rest of the night.”  Dwalin nodded, not needing to respond.

            With Dwalin, Ori, Dis and Nori leaving the room and Bilbo standing silently in the shadows, Thorin now turned his full attention and fury on his nephews.

            “Forgetting the unnecessary exposure,” Thorin whispered loudly, “your little stunt has caused.” Thorin voice got a little louder. “Regardless that you both should have known better.” Thorin’s timber went up a notch again.  “No matter, they were honored guests and that you were warned to leave them be!”  Thorin was just on this side of controlled.  “Despite all other concerns that might have entered into those two lumps of stone you call heads!”  Thorin had begun to snarl. “What disgusts and angers me the most,” Thorin’s voice hit the roof, “is that you took an innocent, gentle being and in your uncaring recklessness,” Thorin’s voice shook the room, “BROUGHT HIM TO THE POINT OF UTTER HORROR AND FEAR, SO GREAT, THAT HIS SOUL CRIED OUT BECAUSE OF IT!”

            The silence was deafening and the two princes cowered under their uncle’s rage.

            “Have you any idea what it was like to feel Ori’s fear,” Thorin said, his voice now dropped to dangerous whisper. “To have it shake me to my core?!   I was almost to the cavern, and it was as if he was standing right next to me!”

            The two princes were wide-eyed.

            Fili tried to interrupt.  “We had no idea, Unc—”

            “SILENCE!”

            Thorin began to pace back and forth, the look on his face clear; he was deciding on punishment as much as calming himself down.

            “Had we not a pressing issue at hand,” Thorin said, breathing slow and steadily, “I would feel no guilt entombing you in the vault for the next several decades!”

            “Uncle, please,” Kili begged.

            “I said, silence!”  Thorin growled.  “Unfortunately, I don’t have that luxury at present.” He turned a sardonic smile on his nephews.  “Of course, don’t think your mother would stop me if I were to change my mind later.” Both princes paled. “But right now, sad to say, I need your assistance.  That is the plain fact of the matter.”

            “Anything you need, Uncle,” Kili said quickly.

            “We are at your service,” Fili stated.

            “And don’t you ever forget that,” Thorin said, giving them a withering, sharp glare.  “You are both to leave here and go to the Casino.  You are to stay there until morning and you are to gather as much information on those two scumbags working with our … other guest this evening.”

            “Yes, Uncle,” Kili nodded.

            “We won’t fail you,” Fili added.

            “That remains to be seen,” Thorin said quietly. “Go. Now!”

            Both princes moved so quickly, that Thorin was sure Bilbo shook his head to keep from getting dizzy. 

            Thorin just stood there, waiting, hoping, for Bilbo to say something – anything – to make the night better. But Bilbo remained quiet, his expression unreadable.

            “If you wish to cut the evening short—”

            “I don’t.”

            Thorin nodded.  “I’m … glad to hear that.”

            “Are you?”

            Thorin was confused; did Bilbo think him insincere? “Why would you ask—”

            “I want the truth, Lord Durin.”

            _Lord Durin._ Not _‘Thorin.’_ Like a knife to the heart. But Thorin nodded. He knew Bilbo would want that; deserved that. “I’d still like to show you the surprise I had for you.”

            Bilbo opened his mouth but then closed it again. He was clearly unsure.

            “I promise,” Thorin said, laying a hand over his heart. “I will tell you the truth; all of it. I would regain your trust if you but let me.”

            It was a few seconds before Bilbo finally nodded.  Thorin gently guided him to the hidden door and the way back to where they were before.

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            “I want to know what happened,” Nori insisted.

            They had returned to Dis’ room, where they were before Dis suddenly urged Nori to come and had rushed them off to the Library.

            “I told you I would tell you,” Dis said from a beautiful folding screen in the corner of the room.  “I had no intention of going back on my word.”

            “I didn’t  … I … I never thought you would.”

            Dis laughed.  “Yes you did.  But I am not offended.” Dis came out from behind the screen, now dressed only in a long, cobalt blue silk robe; her hair loose, cascading down her back like a raven colored waterfall.    Dis came up and hooked an arm through one of Nori’s and led them to the soft, velvet covered cough at the foot of the bed.  “I will tell you more than just the facts of what happened; I will tell you the whole truth.”

            “Aren’t they the same thing?”

            “Oh, my dear,” Dis said, running fingers through Nori’s hair.  “The truth is so much more frightening.”

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            “Do you want a drink?” Dwalin said, bolting the door to his room and unbuckling his belt with the gun hostler and dagger, tossing it all on a chair next to the bed.  “There’s wine, if you like.  Or would you prefer whiskey?”

            “I’m, uhm … “ Ori breathed a bit easier now, but not completely.  “I don’t know.”

            “Don’t know whether to have wine or whiskey,” Dwalin said, removing his jacket and dressed only in his undershirt and pants. “Or don’t know about having a drink, period?”

            Ori shook his head.  “I’m so confused and, I don’t know what to think or say or do and … and part of me wants to bolt from the castle and yet … yet I don’t, and … and … and,” Ori’s trembling started again, but by now the endorphins were gone and he burst into tears from the weight of all that had happened.

            Dwalin instantly wrapped Ori up, holding him close and letting the young man cry it out.  It was several minutes before Ori quieted.

            “Better?” Dwalin asked, gently; Ori nodded rather than answered.

            Dwalin released Ori, and went to build up the fire, which was only embers.  Within minutes there was a blaze and the room had a wonderful, golden glow reflecting off the stone walls.  Dwalin poured two glasses of whiskey, one small for Ori, a larger one for himself.

            “Here,” Dwalin held out Ori’s glass and was surprised when Ori took it without a word or protest and drank it down in one gulp. Ori didn’t sputter or choke on the aged alcohol; Dwalin was impressed.

            Taking Ori’s hand, Dwalin sat them on the floor in front of the fire, close, shoulder to shoulder – well, Ori’s shoulder to Dwalin’s arm; even sitting Dwalin was still a good deal taller.

            “Do you want to talk about it?” Dwalin asked.

            “I want to know what the hell they are.”

            Dwalin didn’t need to ask who _they_ were. “You know what they are.”

            Ori turned his head slowly to look at Dwalin and whispered, “Are you one of them?”

            Dwalin chuckled; not at Ori, but rather at how much Ori could already charm him so.  He turned to look at Ori as well and gave Ori a toothy, normal, grin. “No.  And yes.”

            Ori shook his head again.  “I don’t understand.”

            “It’s a long story.”

            “Then you better start.”

 

 

 


	18. Immortal Blood-drinker

* * *

 

 

            “May I ask you a question?”

            Thorin did not pause but slowed briefly.  “You are free to ask me anything.”

            “Anything?” Bilbo said, a smile in his voice. “That could be dangerous.”

            “True,” Thorin said.  “But dangerous for whom?”

            Bilbo hummed his agreement but remained silent. 

            Thorin wondered if perhaps in his attempt to be witty, he had, instead, given Bilbo reason to retract his question before even stating it; or worse, thought that Thorin was telling him not to ask in the first place.  He was just about to urge Bilbo to continue when Bilbo spoke up behind him.

            “Why is there a secret door from the library?”

            Thorin released the breath he was holding; it was an easy question. “There should always be more than one way out of a room.”

            “Why?”

            “Security.”

            “But wouldn’t having only one door be more secure?”

            “Not if one is trapped or locked in.”

            “Is that really a concern for you?”

            Thorin turned at that.  “Yes. It was at one time.”

            Bilbo nodded and the both returned to silence.   It wasn’t long before they were back where they had been before Thorin had insisted they rush off.  Like the library, the darkened corridor they had been traveling had a secret door that Bilbo hadn’t even noticed; it blended into the wall seamlessly.   However, something occurred to him suddenly.

            “Is this the only secret passage to this corridor?”

            Thorin chuckled.  “You are clever, Master Baggins.  I have to give you credit.”

            “Shall I take that as a ‘no’ then?”

            Thorin nodded.  “There are four. Each comes from a different part of the castle and a couple of them lead to other secret passages. In all, there is a secret exit in almost every room.”

            “And do you feel more secure because of them?”  Bilbo quipped.

            “Let’s just say, I don’t feel less secure because of them.”

            Bilbo didn’t respond but Thorin was sure that Bilbo only trying to work out what Thorin meant.  _Good luck with that, Master Baggins,_ Thorin mused to himself.

            Before Bilbo could continue, however, they came to the end of the passageway, and were now facing a large metal door.  It was plain in appearances but even without opening it, one could tell that it was thick and it looked heavy, like the entry to some vast treasure horde. After handing the small torch to Bilbo, Thorin fished into his pocket, producing a strange shaped key; it took a firm push for it to slid into the keyhole.

           “How long has it been since that was used?”  Bilbo asked.

           Thorin smiled to himself. “Too long,” he said, and left it at that.

           There was a slight grinding as the key was turned, but the clang of tumbling levers sounded, signaling the release of the bolt and allowing the door to open slightly.   Using both hands, Thorin nudged the door completely open; cool, moist air struck them both, as did the smell of minerals and salt. 

            “Come,” Thorin said softly and Bilbo, handing the torch back to Thorin, walked through first.

            The passageway beyond the door was a rough-hewn tunnel, obviously dug right through the mountain itself.  The floor was flattened, but walls curved slightly outward and the ceiling arched, making the tunnel almost egg-shaped.   However, it was short.

            “Oh my god,” Bilbo whispered loudly, stunned.  The tunnel opened at the top of a giant cavern, and while there was no light, the stalagmites, stalactites, columns, even the flowstones, sparkled and glittered as if studded with stars.

            “The walls are covered in crystalized minerals,” Thorin said as the even the small torch he now held aloft reflected off the walls.

            “It’s so beautiful,” Bilbo was almost breathless.  “Like an alien world or something out of a fairy tale.”

            “Yes,” Thorin agreed.  “But it is this very cave that brought my family to utter ruin and ...” Dare he say it? “… damnation.”

            Bilbo now turned his stunned look to Thorin but it was clearly at his words that he was amazed.  “How?!”

            Thorin took a deep breath, held it – building his resolve - and then released it; along with all his trepidation.  “I told you that I would tell you the truth.  And I had meant to do so before Ori’s incident; I still do.”

            “What did happen upstairs?”  Bilbo asked. “I still can’t figure it out.”

            Thorin nodded.  He knew that what little he had shown Bilbo was more confusing, especially when it was presented so out of context.   “The boys frightened Ori beyond imagining.”

            “So you basically said,” Bilbo stated.  “But in what way?  And how did you know to go rushing off?  I mean, one minute we were walking along and then we were rushing off as if your very life depended on it.”

            “Not my life.”

            “You mean Ori’s life depended on it.”

            Thorin nodded.

            “Why do I have a feeling you mean that literally, not figuratively.”

            “Because I do.”

            Bilbo shook his head.  “I don’t understand.”

            Thorin sighed but didn’t say a word.  He had no intention of backing down now, but just how to word it? How does one confess that they are a being of myth and legend?  A creature damned to immortality?  Something to be feared and loathed?  Certainly, not someone to be loved.

            “Lord Durin …” Bilbo started but paused at the pained intake of Thorin’s breath. “What’s wrong?”

            “Why do you call me that?”  His title on Bilbo’s lips was like a dagger to the gut.

            But Bilbo was clearly perplexed.  “That's your name, isn't it?”

            “That is how I am styled, but it is not … _me._ Why do you no longer use my name, as you did before?”

            Bilbo got it.  “You were so upset in the library.  I feared you would not appreciate me calling you by your name when the situation was so serious.”

            Oh. That was not what Thorin expected.  But something still nagged at him.  “Feared. You were afraid of me upstairs.”

            “No,” Bilbo clarified.  “I feared _for you_ , not _of you_.  Quite different.”

            Thorin was now the confused one.  “What do you mean _for me_?”

            “Whatever the boys had done,” Bilbo said, “you were clearly hurt and disappointed by it.  I feared that would lead you to say and/or do things you would regret later and I wouldn’t want you to suffer that.”

            Once again, Thorin was amazed, astonished really, at Bilbo’s depth of caring. “Who are you?”

            Bilbo chuckled.  “Just a guy from England.”

            “No,” Thorin said, “You are not ‘just’ anything.  You are … unique.”

            Bilbo smiled.  “And aren’t you as well? What manner of man goes tearing off to rescue and defend an innocent like Ori when you have only just met him? There aren’t many that are so chivalrous and noble.”

            “Noble,” Thorin repeated.  He couldn’t allow the lie to continue.  “Master Baggins, I am not—”

            “Bilbo.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “If you wish me to use your given name … Thorin; then I insist you grant me the same wish.  I would like you to.”

            Thorin shook his head.  “You may not want that when you have heard my tale.”

            “Why ever not?”  Bilbo chuckled; he obviously thought Thorin was joking.

            “Because I am not who you think I am.”

            “Are you telling me that you are not Thorin, son of Thrain, Lord Durin, the Lord of Erebor?”  Bilbo giggled, amused at his own cheek.

            “I am that,” Thorin said, not able to bring himself to laugh. “But I am also Thorin Thrainson … immortal blood-drinker.”

 

 

 


	19. The Dragon's Curse - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the tale begins ...

* * *

 

 

            Bilbo wouldn’t stop laughing.

            “Do you think my confession amusing?” Thorin scowled.

            Bilbo took a breath, opened his mouth to answer but ended up clutching his side once again.

            Thorin rolled his eyes and growled.  “Because I can assure you, I am not amused.”

            Bilbo finally caught his breath.  “I’m sorry, but …” Bilbo giggled loudly.  “While I will admit that you are rather … seductively mysterious and …” Bilbo took a deep breath.  “… and romantically majestic in your manner, I just don’t …” Bilbo laughed again.

            Thorin as not impressed, and demanded, “So, you do not believe me?”

            Bilbo couldn’t help smiling but he shook his head.  “Oh, Thorin … a blood-drinker?!  Honestly, would _you_ believe _you_?  Who in their right mind would?”

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            “And you believe me?” Dis asked.  "Just like that?"

            “Why would you lie?” Nori asked in reply.

            “I’m sure there are a number of reasons,” Dis said flatly, sitting on the couch sideways, still gently running her fingers through Nori’s hair.

            “None that pan out,” Nori stated.  He too had turned so that he faced the beautiful creature next to him.

            “You surprise me, Mister Ryland,” Dis said softly.  “And that is no small feat.”

            “I don’t doubt that either.”

            “What, exactly, gave me away?”  Dis was amused.

            “You knew about Ori,” Nori answered.  “You silenced me with a look … don’t think I was oblivious to that.”

            “Most people are,” Dis really was surprised now.

            “I’m not most people.”

            “No. You’re not.”

            “I guess the bigger questions are, A, how did this come about, or, B, is this were you take my life to maintain your secret.”

            Dis smiled and traced a finger along Nori’s face and down his neck. “To answer your second question … if I were going to feed, I wouldn’t have had any reason to tell you my secret at all.”

            Nori nodded; hard to argue that point.

            “As to how it came about,” Dis said, shift closer, “it starts long ago, and begins with death.”

            “Who’s?”

            “My own.”

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            “So …” Ori said, sitting cross-legged in front of Dwalin, “are you … ‘ _undead_?’”

            “Like the boys and their mother and uncle,” Dwalin said taking Ori’s hands in his own, “I am immortal.  But I am not a ‘ _damâm-ushlaku_.’”

            “A … what?” Ori thought it sounded like a curse word.  Maybe it was.

            “Damâm-ushlaku,” Dwalin repeated, “literally translates as ‘ _blood-drinker of_.’ In our ancient language, the noun comes first and then the descriptive adjective or verb.”

            “Oh, I see,” Ori said.  “So, _damâm-ushlaku_ is what you call a …”

            “A Nosferatu,” Dwalin supplied to fill in Ori’s pause.  “from the archaic Romanian word Necuratu or ‘ _the unclean one_.’ Nosophoros or Vrykolakas in Greek, or ...”

            “Vampire,” Ori added, “in English?”

            “Yes.” Dwalin was not one to lie.

            “But you are not one.”

            “No,” Dwalin replied.

            “But you say you are immortal.”

            “Correct.”

            “How can you be, if you are not—”

            “Because I drink their blood.”

            Ori shook his head.  “You aren’t a vampire, but you drink blood.”

            “I drink _their_ blood. That’s the difference.”

            Dwalin sat and waited as Ori slowly took in all that he had said.

            “But you weren’t always immortal,” Ori said and Dwalin nodded.  “How old you are?”

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            “Come again?” Bilbo asked, still refusing to believe.

            “I am one thousand and seventy years old,” Thorin stated for a second time.

            “A millennium,” Bilbo said flatly.

            “Plus seventy,” Thorin stated firmly.

            “Oh, well,” Bilbo said in mock seriousness, “that extra seventy makes the world of difference.”

            Thorin turned his back on Bilbo; frustrated.  He was totally at a loss.  How could he get Bilbo to believe that what he thought of as fiction was, in truth, fact? Like asking the scientist to believe on faith alone, or asking the priest to understand the atheist. How could he convince the one person that must understand the gravity of the—

            Thorin turned, and using all the power he could muster, allowed his features to darken, his eyes to convey the beast within, and he bared his fangs, releasing a guttural growl.  He knew he could be frightening in the light, he could only imagine what he must look like in the murky dark—

            “Am I supposed to be scared?” Bilbo asked calmly.

            _What?_   “How can you not be?” Thorin asked, his voice deep and grave.

            Bilbo only shrugged.

            Thorin suddenly remembered a long, buried warning.  _‘Do not seek affection for your prey, least you loose all power over them.’_ Thorin had thought the advice nothing more than word play and overtly dramatic; he had never believed it.  Then again, it had never been an issue because he had never had someone close to him, never wanted it.

            Until now.  Until Bilbo.

            Thorin reached out and gently drew Bilbo to him; Bilbo did not resist. Resting his forehead onto Bilbo’s, Thorin closed his eyes and finally surrendered, breathing in Bilbo’s scent, letting Bilbo’s presence wash over him, fill him.  He could not resist holding Bilbo’s face in his hands, tenderly ghosting his fingers over Bilbo’s cheeks, tracing Bilbo’s lips with a thumb, reveling in the soft, supple warmth of Bilbo’s body.

            “How can I convince you of my sincerity?” Thorin whispered, moving back a fraction and opening his eyes.

            Bilbo was frozen to the spot. 

             Slowly, Bilbo reached up and returned Thorin’s gesture, running gentle fingers over Thorin’s face and beard, staring unblinkingly into Thorin’s eyes.

            “Oh my god,” Bilbo said, a little breathlessly.  “You aren’t human … are you?”

            Thorin sighed.  “No. Not anymore.  Not for a very long time.”

            Bilbo nodded slowly, finally coming to believe.  “When … _how_?”

            Thorin drew a deep breath.  “It was a quiet morning; nothing out of the ordinary.  Nothing that is, until the boats emerged from the thick fog and with them came The Dragon.”

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            “Who?” Nori asked, wondering if he had heard wrong.  The name was so strange.

            “Smaug was his name,” Dis said.  “He was known as ‘The Terrible’ to us and those others he invaded, but to his kin he was called The Dragon.  They said that his wrath was so great and horrible that he could breathe fire and bring death.”

            “I take it that last bit was true.”

            “Very much so.  But he didn’t count on two things.”

            “Which were?”

            “Our resistance and his betrayal.”

            “Who betrayed him?”

            “The wizard.”

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            “You don’t mean a real wizard?” Ori asked, with a laugh.

            But Dwalin wasn’t laughing.  “He claimed to have magical abilities, to know The Dragon’s weakness. He promised to tell us, in exchange for something.”

            “What’s that?” Ori said, quickly becoming engrossed.

            “His freedom.”

            “He was a prisoner?”

            “According to him, he was held in place by Smaug’s own magic and that only Smaug's, or his own, death could release him.  However, he wanted us to spare him his life if he helped us win the battle.”

            “If that is true,” Ori asked, “then why did so many of your ruling class die?”

            “Because, by the time he offered, they were already dead,” Dwalin said quietly, almost reverently.  “Only later did we figure out that, in all likelihood, he waited for our chieftain and his sons to be dead so that he could ask the one person who would be so willing to give in.”

            “And who was that?”

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            “Dis?!” Bilbo was shocked.

            “Do not judge her,” Thorin said firmly.  “I made that mistake for far too long.  She had been placed in a terrible position, we cannot blame her for her desperation.”

            “No,” Bilbo rushed out, shaking his head empathically. “I didn’t mean it in judgment, only in amazement.  I would have thought that the Vikings would have gone for her first; make sure that she could not carry on the line.”

            “Although she wanted to fight,” Thorin stated, “we sent her to be protected, along with our … most precious treasure.”

            “You mentioned that before,” Bilbo said.  “That Smaug wanted to something of yours, something you held most dear.”

            “Even then,” Thorin said, “there were great rumors, far and wide, that Erebor, and in particular the ruling family, had a vast treasure hidden on the island. It was said that he had more gold horded away than there was remaining in the rest of the world.”

            “Jesus,” Bilbo swore.  “That’s a lot of treasure.”

            “It was a lot of rumor,” Thorin corrected. “Indeed, we did have a good amount of gold and silver, we had copper and other deposits, more than a small island should have, but we didn’t have all that was rumored to be here. In fact, you are standing in our greatest treasure.”  Thorin gestured to the cavern itself.

            Bilbo looked around wide-eyed.  “You mean, this was your horde?!”

            Thorin nodded.  “It was said that our ancestors were created here, in this cavern, forge by our own god’s hand. This place is sacred to us and by the time of the Viking invasion, only the ruling family had assess to it. Needless to say, our greed to protect our greatest treasure, our sacred birthplace, was what ultimately gave rise to the rumor that would almost undo us.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is TOTALLY my own making that in Khuz-dul, the adjective goes after the noun. I wanted it to be unlike English.
> 
> \--------
> 
> as for the cavern, for those that don't know, it is based on the Glittering Caves that were in the mountain behind Helm's Deep that Gimli established a Dwarrow Colony after the War of the Ring, and on Mount Gundabad where the seven Dwarrow Father's slept before being awakened in to the world.


	20. The Dragon's Curse - Part 2

* * *

 

 

            “So, what you are saying,” Bilbo was catching on, “was that you kept this cavern hidden from all but a few and most, if not all, the rest thought you hid a huge treasure.”

            Thorin nodded.  “In our greed, we believed that only the ruling family should gaze upon it.”

            “Rather arrogant, if you don’t mind my saying.”

            “I’d argue the point but you see now where it led us.”

            “And just how did that take place?”

            Thorin drew a deep breath, stealing himself for what was to come; telling his tale in its entirety for the first time to an outsider. “The Vikings had heard the rumors of our ‘treasure.’  Smaug sought it for himself.  Apparently, Smaug believed that if he had this … _sacred horde_ , he could not only have the divinity of the Gods, but that he could use it to conquer the world.

            “Mighty aspirations for one man,” Bilbo said without sarcasm.

            “Indeed,” Thorin said.  “While Smaug’s army was small in number, they were fierce fighters and willing to die for him; many Ereboreans perished just to give the majority time to escape and make the long, perilous journey here, to the castle.  Along the way, they informed other villages so that as Smaug moved closer to his goal, he found empty village after empty village.  By the time Smaug and his force arrived, we were warned and prepared.”

            Bilbo’s eyes lit up with understanding.  “Oh my, God!  Those suits of armor that we saw!  They weren't just ancestors to you, they were—”

            “My grandfather was the Chieftain,” Thorin confirmed. “My father was his heir and my younger brother was the one to fall with them.”

            “So that last suit,” Bilbo’s voice had almost become a whisper. “That was—”

            “Mine.” Thorin swallowed, it was still hard to talk of those deaths, even after ten centuries.   “And I would have died too had it not been for Dis and her decision.”

            “You mentioned that before,” Bilbo said.  “Something about the wizard and an offer to help you.”

            “At the time,” Thorin said quietly, “She was led to believe that the wizard was not so much a willing ally, but a captive.  He offered to tell Dis the secret of Smaug’s weakness, but in exchange he wanted his freedom and his life.  Seeing most of her family dead, she agreed readily.”

            “So what was the weakness?”  Bilbo asked, engrossed now in the narrative.

            “Smaug had armor that was in two pieces,” Thorin said.  “Instead of just a single breast plate covering his body, it was made in two … an upper and lower.  This allowed him to move and bend but still be covered.  However, whenever he raised both arms above his head, there was a moment when a gap formed, right over the lowest part of his heart.”

            “So how did she—”

            “She didn’t,” Thorin said.  “Her husband, Vili did.” 

            “Her husband?”

            “It wasn’t meant to be that way.  I knew that whoever went for Smaug would most likely give up their life. I wanted Dis and her boys to live and I wanted Vili to be there for them, so I made the decision to sacrifice my life for the continuation of my sister's family.”

            “Since Dis appears to be alone,” Bilbo said softly, “can I assume that your plan didn’t work out as you hoped?”

            Thorin nodded and took a breath before continuing.  “I attacked Smaug directly and did all I could, but, I wasn’t quick enough and he caught me, piercing the armor in the chest. The boys, barely sixteen and seventeen, attempted to defend me but they too where cut down and left for dead.   In the end, it was Dis’ husband that finally got a clear shot and as Smaug raised his arms to deliver a killing blow, Vili drove his sword into the gap and straight through The Dragon. However, Smaug was still able to bring down his mace and take Vili’s life.  Smaug the Terrible was dead, but at great cost.”

            Bilbo looked stunned.  “How did you survive.”

            “I almost didn’t,” Thorin replied.  “I clung to life as did the boys.  It was the wizard who came to Dis and offered to save us since he had been set free with Smaug’s demise.  Dis, naturally, would have agreed to anything.

            “Ordering everyone out, the wizard spent days in our tent. He said incantations and lit candles and whatnot, but looking back, it must have all been for show; a conjurer of cheap tricks, because it was really the potion he offered that tied us to life”

            “Potion,” Bilbo repeated.  “What potion could do that.”

            “We did not know at the time.  It was foul; tasting of herbs and other medicinal plants, but had a strange metallic aftertaste.”

            “And this potion was enough to cure you?”

            “Not cure.  No, it kept us alive but barely.   The wizard insisted that we get only a small amount and only once a day.  He claimed that too much would kill us.  Dwalin, didn’t trust—”

            “Dwalin!?” Bilbo was now truly shocked. “You mean he is also—”

            “No,” Thorin cut across, “But I will get to that in a bit.”

            “I’m sorry,” Bilbo said, shaking his head.

            Thorin gave Bilbo a small smile.  “You have nothing to be sorry for.  It is a great deal to digest at once and I must say, you are doing very well.”

            “I’m not sure that is exactly a compliment,” Bilbo said with a small self-deprecating laugh.             

            “I assure you, it was meant as one,” Thorin stated. “Now, as I was saying, Dwalin was getting suspicious of the wizard.   No matter how many times he asked, Dwalin was never allowed to see the potion being made, taste it, or see it administered.  The wizard insisted on total secrecy, least anyone else’s presence ruin the elixir, or so he claimed.  All the while, the wizard began to ask for more and more from Dis; first it was mere shelter, than it was a splendid tent, then gifts, finally he demanded gold and gems and said in no uncertain terms that if his wishes were not met, he would allow the boys and myself to die.”

            “Oh my, God,” Bilbo said wide-eyed.  “What a demand!”

            “Naturally,” Thorin said.  “Dis wasn’t about to let us die but she had finally come to see that the wizard had probably come with Smaug with the sole purpose of gaining treasure for himself.”

            “An ulterior motive; a war and destruction of a family, all for allure of gold.”

            “Yes, and you can see the logic when you see the whole picture; he comes with the invader, probably promised Smaug his aid in winning, then claims to be a captive, and promising Dis that he would tell her Smaug’s weakness in exchange for freedom, then once Smaug is dead, he used our tentative survival to his own ends to usurp more and more treasure for himself. It was probably his plan to kill us once he had enough and then flee with the treasure he had accumulated.”

            “Bastard.”

            “But he failed to realize that Dis was not only already suspicious herself, but he assumed she was a simpering little maiden.  That was his first big mistake.  The second was to fail to realize that Dis was already moving against him.”

            “With Dwalin’s help?”

            Thorin nodded.  “Dwalin distracted the wizard while Dis snuck into the wizard’s tent.  It was filled with crates that he had brought with him. Dis had believed that they held magical objects and sundry, but they were, instead, empty to begin with and he was filling them with the gold he was collecting.  Yet, not all the crates were empty.  In one, Dis discovered the wizard’s true secret; he had captured and entrapped a vampire.”

            “You’re joking.”

            Thorin shook his head.  “This was no elegant, romantic being, but an elder vampire, one used to living in flithy and sleeping in a coffin at night like a cadaver.  The wizard caught it while it slept and imprisoned it.  The vampire was the one that told the true tale of the wizard and how he’d been using the vampire’s blood to boost Smaug’s strength and quickly heal Smaug’s army, not to mention that the wizard used the smallest amount of vampiric blood in the potion he feed us; just enough to keep us alive but not enough to heal us completely.  The vampire promised Dis that if she released him, he would rid her of the wizard and heal me and the boys.”

            “That was a lot to trust!” Bilbo looked amazed.

            “She didn’t,” Thorin said flatly.  “Dis was one of those rare humans, who ‘Glamour’ doesn’t work on.”

            “Glamour?”

            “I’ll explain later.”  Bilbo nodded and Thorin went on.  “Dis could see that the vampire was trying to manipulate her and free itself; she feared however, what he would do when out of his chains.  That was when she made a fateful decision.”

            “Oh my God.”

            “I see you have guessed.  Dis swore she would let the being go, but she wanted him to make her a vampire first so that she could heal the boys and me.  She used every trick in the book to convince the creature and it must have worked because he agreed in the end.”

            “He probably planned on overpowering her and killing her when he was out.”

            “Probably. But like the wizard, he underestimated Dis.  Once she was changed, she made as if to release the vampire, but he was weak from her making and while she still had him chained, it was she that took his life, draining him completely. “

            Bilbo was speechless.

            “In her desperation to save her sons, she made the boys into vampires.  Then she turned on me.”

            “What?” Bilbo had found his voice. “You make it sound like she went against you?”

            “She did,” Thorin said.  “I was barely alive but awake enough to know what was going on.  I told her that she should let me die and that I didn’t want to be damned.  I would rather have perished than be … an abomination.”

            “Oh, Thorin,” Bilbo said reaching out and squeezing his arm in comfort. “I don’t think Dis could ever have let you die.  I think that was a terrible decision for her.”

            “I know that now, but at the time, it seemed so clear.”

            “And she made you one anyway.”

            Thorin nodded.  “She said she couldn’t loose any more of the ones she loved.  Meanwhile, the wizard had gotten suspicious of Dwalin, but by the time he figured out where Dis was, he was too late.  He entered the tent to find not one elderly vampire in chains, but four fledglings, ready to feed.  He didn’t stand a chance.”

            Bilbo just shook his head.  “I guess the main thing is that at least Smaug didn’t destroy you or your people; you survived.”

            “Survived,” Thorin said, with a huffed out laugh.  “You may think that, Bilbo, but for me, it was, for the longest time, a curse, brought with Smaug, and it’s a curse I will never be free of.”

 

 

 


	21. Coupling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everyone has their perfect match ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is un-betaed ... any mistakes are mine and mine alone ... feel free to point them out so that i may correct them

* * *

 

 

            “You think your existence a curse?” Nori asked.

            “Do you think it a blessing?” Dis asked in return, as she moved across the room to pour them both a glass of wine.

            “I believe the average person would, yes,” Nori replied.

            “You aren’t the average person.”

            Nori laughed at that. “No, I’m not.”

            “Do you not see me as a monster?”

            “No.”

            “Just … _no_?”

            “What other answer can I give?” Nori shrugged. “I don’t think you evil, or your actions unquestionable. And, if I were in your place, faced with the choice between saving my family or letting them die, I’d probably do the same.”

            “Then I ask again,” Dis said, as she turned around, allowing her dressing gown to fall open, exposing her naked body.   “Do _you_ think it a blessing?”

            Nori pondered Dis’ question seriously. He’d discarded his jacket, belt, shoes and socks, wearing only his slacks and shirt, which was opened to the waist. Dis had stated she liked a man who appeared both dressed and undressed at the same time and as he gazed at Dis both robed and yet naked, it was a feeling they both shared. “I think,” Nori said, turning unusually serious. “That it would depend entirely on one’s outlook on life.”

            Dis’ laugh was deep and throaty yet still honey smooth. “Have you ever given a definitive answer to a question, Mister Ryland?”

            “Life isn’t often so definitive,” Nori said with a cocked eyebrow. “It’s rarely quantifiable; like myself. The only absolute, is that there are no absolutes.”

            “That’s a paradox,” Dis said, returning to the couch and handing Nori a glass.

            “Like so many things in life,” Nori said taking a sip of wine; unsurprised by the exceptional vintage.

            “Again, not unlike yourself, Mister Ryland.”

            “Nor you, milady.”

            “You think?”

            “You are … beautiful, yet deadly.”

            Dis laughed, carding her fingers through Nori’s hair, then gently swirling the hairs at the nap of his neck. “One more thing we have in common.”

            Nori nodded, unable to resist gazing down at Dis’ flawless body; covered in the thinnest silk he’d ever seen. “Among so many things we have in common.”

            Dis smiled, her mouth opening only slightly, seductively, as she pulled Nori into a deep and languorous kiss.

           

\-----ooooo-----

 

            “That’s an oxymoron,” Ori insisted.

            “Are you …” Dwalin looked confused. “… Are you questioning my intelligence?”

            Ori rolled his eyes; he couldn’t help it. “No, not ‘moron’ in that way … I mean … I … what I … I mean …” Ori sighed. “Let’s start again. You say your existence is a paradox … that you’re an _Immortal_ Mortal … but that’s a contradiction in terms.”

            Dwalin shrugged. “It is what I am.”

            “Then what you are makes no sense.” Ori shook his head; he didn’t understand what Dwalin was getting at. “How does your drinking their blood, _not_ make you like them?”

            Dwalin sighed. “Their blood has unfathomable abilities.”

            “As the legends tell us.”

            “Not legends … true facts.”

            Ori nodded; Dwalin would know that better than he of course.

            “If one is drained of blood,” Dwalin continued, “to the point just before death, then given or made to drink from a vampire, that person will become a vampire themselves.”

            “Again, as the …” Ori caught himself this time, “… as we have seen for a fact.”

            Dwalin nodded. “But, if a mortal, un-drained … _intact_ as we would say … drinks Vampiric blood, they don’t become a vampire, they, instead, become what we call a ghoul.”

            Ori couldn’t help make a face. “But a ghoul is someone that eats the flesh of the dead.”

            “In your world,” Dwalin said, “ _the mortal world_ , that maybe true.”

            “Are you saying there is a vampire world?”

            “A community actually.”

            “There are others?!”

            Dwalin gave Ori a deadpan look of incredulousness. “You’re joking, right?”

            Ori cocked a sardonic eyebrow “Well, it’s not like I hear about it on BBC World News!”

            Dwalin chuckled at that. “Granted.”

            “So forgive me if I am … _ignorant—_ ”

            Dwalin reached out and tenderly cupped Ori’s face, silencing him. “Ignorant is not a word I like used for you,” Dwalin said softly. “ _Unknowing_ or … _innocent_ … are more palatable to me.”

            Ori smiled, sheepishly looking down, blushing at the compliment and Dwalin could not resist gently running his thumb over the apple of Ori’s cheek.

            “So,” Dwalin said, “to answer your question … yes, scattered across the globe, there are other vampires. Not so many as to make you feel unsafe, but probably far more than you would guess or imagine.”

            Ori nodded, understanding. “And in your world, a ghoul … like yourself … drinks the blood of a vampire for … what exactly?”

            “As I said, Vampiric blood has many abilities,” Dwalin explained. “One of them is heightened healing. So much so, that mortals … even those mortally wounded or dying, that drink it are healed completely. Reversals of disease and malady are accomplished almost instantly, and …”

            “And?”

            “And the aging process is stopped.”

            “You mean slowed.”

            “No. I mean stopped. As long as I drink the blood of a vampire, I will not age.”

            “And if you _were_ to stop?”

            “The clock would start again.”

            Ori’s eyes widened at that thought. “Does that mean, then you would age rapidly?!”

            Dwalin smiled but shook his head; it was on old misconception. “The aging process simply would begin as before; there would be no rush to the grave. I have stopped in the past, on more than one occasion.”

            “And it did no harm?” Ori asked, sounding concerned.

            Dwalin took Ori’s hands in his own, in an attempt to sooth him. “Only that I began to age. The first two times were early in process; the first time was out of curiosity, while the second was to father children. The third …”

            Ori waited but Dwalin remained silent. After a few long seconds, Ori tentatively asked, “Why did you do it a third time.”

            Dwalin hesitated a moment before answering, “The third time was many centuries after the first two. I’d grown weary of immortality, and sought to end my … my torture.”

            Ori gaped at Dwalin’s confession.

            “But, as I’ve said, there was no hastening to oblivion,” Dwalin said, sounding resigned. “And after a few decades of living life as a mere mortal, my attitude had changed. That is also why I appear older than Lord Durin.”

            “So you really are …”

            “I did not lie when I told you I’d seen the passing of the last millennium.”

            Ori’s eyes widened. “I thought you were joking!”

            Dwalin bestowed Ori with a crooked, self-deprecating smile. “No.”

            “Goodness,” Ori shook his head, as if clearing it. “Well, I’ve … I’ve always liked older men.”

            Dwalin’s laugh was deep and rich.   “But you’ve never actually _been with a man_ … have you? You’ve never laid with another.”

            Ori was speechless and his cheeks colored but he knew he could not lie; Dwalin’s look said he already knew the truth. “How … how do you know that?”

            Dwalin slowly pulled Ori to him, bending his face closer to the smaller man’s until they were but a breath’s width apart; as if Dwalin were drinking in Ori’s very essence, and whispered, “It is the very reason of you being a virgin that drew the boys to you.”

            “What do you mean?” Ori whispered, closing his eyes.

            “Virginity gives you a scent that is unmistakable … it _flavors_ your very blood … power isn’t always in mere strength, it is also in innocence.”

            Ori was melting into Dwalin’s strength and he didn’t care.

            “Once they had you alone,” Dwalin whispered, tracing Ori’s cheek with the tip of his nose, “your scent … your aura … your very being, if you will, betrayed your innocence.   The boys were overwhelmed by your power.”

            “My …” Ori’s breath hitched as Dwalin kissed the shell of Ori’s ear. “… my power? Me?”

            “Yes,” Dwalin said. “You have more power than you know.” Dwalin didn’t not hesitate or stop himself from running his tongue over, and suckling on, the tender flesh of Ori’s neck.

            “Oh … God.” Ori couldn’t breath and he didn’t give a hang about his power or whatever the hell it was that Dwalin was talking about it. He just didn’t want Dwalin to stop.

            “Only when you have lost your power … when another has deflowered you … will immortals loose their draw to you.”

            “Immortals …” Ori repeated, breathlessly “… but … if that is true … why are you … I mean … will you loose …”

            “Your … innocence, is a gift,” Dwalin said, slowly unbuttoning Ori’s shirt and exposing white shoulders to plant moist kisses over. “And while your appeal to the undead immortals will be lost …”

            “Lost to the undead …” Ori’s breath hitched as Dwalin ran callused fingers over his sensitive nipples. “… but, what of … an Immortal Mortal?”

            Dwalin pulled back, his smile seductive and his eyes dark with desire. Dwalin whispered lustfully. “While the others will become disinterested … one such as I will only become more ... entranced.”

            Ori returned Dwalin’s smile; never so sure in his life. “Than take it from me.”

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            “I’m … curious,” Bilbo said a little brightly, probably because Thorin had slipped into a dampened mood. “You seem to have so many interesting powers—”

            “Abilities.”

            “I’m sorry?”

            “Not powers … they are abilities.”

            Bilbo thought about it for a second. “What’s the difference”

            “Do you view your senses or thought processes or emotions, as powers?”

            “Ah … no.”

            “Neither are mine. They may be heightened, changed, but they are not powers … they are abilities.”

            Bilbo blushed; plainly feeling foolish. “Never thought of it that way.”

            Thorin, however, was amused. “It’s a common misconception.” Thorin smiled, unwilling to contain his affection. “Ask your questions.”

            “Well,” Bilbo said. “When we first met, it was in the daylight, so clearly the sun won’t kill you.”

            Thorin thought that funny. “Clearly. Daylight dulls our senses and subdues our abilities. Except for our eyes.”

            “It bothers them?”

            “No … our eyes are adapted to see in near-total darkness … in the light they are too dazzling. We wear glasses to hide them from humans, least they suspect something wrong.”

            Bilbo nodded. “So sunlight dulls our abilities … you mean your others senses then?”

            “In a way. We move slower and we are … tired. We have the urge to sleep, but we can stay awake.”

            “Maybe that’s why the legends say vampires sleep in coffins during the day.”

            “No doubt … among other reasons.”

            “Such as?”

            “Well, we are not mortal … we are the un-dead. Understandably, that could lead someone to believe we must live and sleep in coffins or graves, or that we are comfortable around rotting corpses.”

            Bilbo shuttered. “But you don’t of course.”

            “No,” Thorin said, amused again. “I sleep in a bed … as I’m sure you do.” _As I want to us to do together,_ but Thorin kept that to himself.

            “Now,” Bilbo said, “I saw you drink wine earlier. Does that mean you can eat too?”

            “No,” Thorin replied. “We can drink anything that is clear. However, particulate matter we cannot digest.”

            Bilbo frowned. “So that is why you refused dessert.”

            Thorin smiled. “Does that disgust you?”

            “No,” Bilbo rushed to say. “Just … how sad. I do love dessert.”

            Thorin chuckled. “A minor sacrifice.”

            “Not in my book,” Bilbo said dryly, making a face and amusing Thorin to no end. “Can you read minds?”

            Thorin outright laughed at that. “No.”

            “So those tales are false.”

            “We are empathic … we can sense other’s feelings, what they may be doing, and even where they are, but not thoughts per se; not words.”

            “Is that how you knew Ori was in trouble?”

            Thorin nodded. “His fear cried out to us.”

            Bilbo shook his head, evidently still feeling for his friend.

            “But to be honest,” Thorin stated, wanting to ease Bilbo’s mind, “I don’t believe the boys would have harmed him.”

            “They scared him!”

            “They terrified him … but I do not think they would have brought him to great _physical_ harm.”

            “Well, thank goodness you made it there in time.”

            Thorin sighed. “Agreed.   And while I do not wish to dismiss Ori’s feelings, let us be thankful he is untouched and safe now.”

            “Is he?” Bilbo asked honestly.

            Thorin closed his eyes and instantly sensed Ori and Dwalin. “He is with Dwalin at present. They are … conversing, sharing with each other.”

            “I hope they are enjoying themselves,” Bilbo said with a smile.

            “They seem—” Thorin stilled, a smirk gracing his face. “Correction … they _were_ conversing.”

            “Were?”

            “Let us say, they are now … _partaking of each other_ in a way that does not require words.”

            Bilbo looked perplexed for a second before his eyes widened. “Oh my, God!   Stop, stop, stop … don’t … watch or listen or … whatever you’re doing!”

Thorin laughed again; would Bilbo ever cease to charm him so? “My apologies, Bilbo. I didn’t mean to be indelicate.”

            “Oh, it isn’t that,” Bilbo said. “It’s just … it’s something private, special, and as it is their first time, it should be for them alone. Not something for others to share in, no matter how … peripheral.”

            Thorin nodded. “That is very kind and considerate of you. Many would seek to make amusement out of it and tease the couple.”

            “That would be wrong,” Bilbo said, empathically. “It’s theirs and theirs alone.”

            Thorin was falling hard and fast. How had he lived all these years, decades, _centuries_ , without someone as charming and noble and intelligent, and so many other wonderful things, as Bilbo Baggins.       

            Thorin didn’t even try to stop himself, he reached out and traced the contours of Bilbo’s beautiful face with his fingertips; so soft, so warm, so beautiful in his eyes. Thorin now understood the moth’s desire for the flame; Bilbo was a bright light of emotion and humanity; things Thorin thought he’d never experience again.

            Bilbo must have felt the pull as well, for he leaned into Thorin’s touch as flower leaned into the sunlight.

            Slowly both mover closer, Thorin lowering his head and Bilbo’s face tilting upward, and there was a moment when all eternity seemed to be open before them, like the ebb of the ocean, and time lay down and meant little to them.

            Thorin could feel Bilbo’s breath, warm and sweet, on his lips and Thorin drew a breath so that he could hold it as they kissed, but –

            Bilbo pulled back suddenly as if woken suddenly from a dream and Thorin, though pained as he was, released him and let Bilbo move back, away from him.

            The spell was broken.

            Silence hung in the air for several long seconds, seconds that felt an eternity, but Thorin was determined to bring normality back to them; he had no desire to let Bilbo be uncomfortable or for their connection to be completely severed.

            “Did you …” Thorin said, slowly and controlled, “… did you have any other questions … or anything you were curious about?”

            Bilbo nodded slowly, still taking short breaths. “You said that you … that you felt your existence was a curse,” Bilbo said quietly, “and I can understand how your could feel that way—”

            “Do you?” Thorin asked honestly

            “Yes,” Bilbo replied. “I can imagine that immortality could become more of an affliction, a hell, as you have it, than a heaven.”

            Thorin was, once more, amazed and awed by Bilbo’s intelligence and grace. “You are correct.”

            “But …” Bilbo continued. “Do you feel that way about it now?”

            Thorin was unsure what to say. How could he admit that even at his great age, he had fallen so quickly and completely for someone he’d only met? Oh, he understood it, of course – one did not live a thousand years and not learn to read the actions and hearts of those around him, especially mortals – and Thorin had no shame of his feelings. They were far from shameful. But he was not so ignorant as to think Bilbo may well be unnerved, fearful, perhaps even disgusted and repulsed, by Thorin’s feelings for him.

            “Thorin?”

            Thorin came back to reality. “I have come to realize,” Thorin said slowly, “that we make our own hell, Bilbo, but heaven can be found here on earth … if we look for it.”

            Bilbo seemed to work turn Thorin’s words over in his head before he looked up quickly, wide eyed. “Truly. And have you … you found such a heaven here?”

            Thorin’s heart surged; he understood now. Bilbo wasn’t afraid, he wasn’t repulsed or even disgusted. Bilbo was simply unsure of Thorin’s feelings.

            “Bilbo,” Thorin said with all the emotion he could summon. “One should not take what is gifted to him for granted. And I will admit, that I thank whatever power gifted me with you.”

            There was but a heartbeat before Bilbo flung himself into Thorin’s arms and Thorin gathered Bilbo to him. Their lips met and time did indeed stand still.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my apologies for being away for so long ... i hope to get back on track with ALL my stories


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